


My American Idiot

by allfandoms4



Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF), PewDiePie (YouTube RPF), Septiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Homophobic Language, It's gonna get sad, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Racist Language, Slow Burn, Stereotypes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:16:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 86,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6757459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allfandoms4/pseuds/allfandoms4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean, known as Jack by his Ma, was the new guy in school after moving to America from Ireland. Everyone avoided him, even the teachers kept their distance, claiming he practically radiated trouble. In this town, everything new was seen as something dangerous and threatening. Sean tried to stay away from the others. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to stay.</p><p>However, when Mark, your average golden boy begins to talk to the green haired teen, completely ignoring the advice of his family and friends. He begins to realize that Jack may not be as bad as all the rumors would lead you to believe.</p><p>*Also posted on Wattpad*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The New Guy

Mark's P.O.V

The first rumor that Mark heard about the new guy, was that he looked really weird.

This new information came from his oldest friend Wade as they were walking to their first class bright and early on Monday morning. The two had been best friends ever since they were little kids and despite the fact that Mark was constantly looking up at the taller boy, they continued to stay in each others company throughout both kindergarten and middle school. Wade constantly teased him about their height difference even though Mark would always retort that at least he wasn't the freakish giant here.

Mark lived in a reasonably small town which meant that anything new was the tip of everyone's tongue. Hence the first thing that came out of Wade's mouth was the groundbreaking news.

"I heard his name's Jack," Wade said as they edged ever closer to their history class. "According to Bob he's moved over from Ireland with his Mom. At least I think it was Ireland, maybe it was England. I can't remember."

Mark gave his friend a weird look. "I wonder why are they coming over to America? That's one hell of a journey."

The taller boy shrugged and heaved a sigh. "I dunno. Maybe they wanted a change of scenery or something?"

Mark shrugged pushing open the door to their first class, the hinges squeaking as it swung inward. The loud chatter of their classmates suddenly hit them and they quickly grabbed two seats beside each other, grinning at their luck as their teacher, Miss Fletcher, clip clopped into the room in her too high, high heels.

Her pale blonde fringe tumbled down into her eyes, wisps of hair falling out of her messy bun to frame her face as she clapped her hands to get the teenager's attention. "Alright class, I would like you to give a warm welcome to our new student, Sean McLoughlin." There were a few beats of silence during which every pair of eyes were fixed on the peeling white paint of the classroom door.

"Come on Sean, there's nothing to worry about!" Miss Fletcher almost cooed, preparing to go out and fetch the student herself before he finally walked through the door, hands shoved deep into his pockets and eyes glaring at the floorboards as if they had done him a personal wrong.

"So Sean, could you tell us all something about yourself?"

Mark raised an eyebrow at the other boy's appearance when he eventually looked up to shoot daggers at the class, lips pressed together in a stubborn line.

It was safe to say that in this town, anything different was avoided like the plague. Yet here was this boy, his brown hair shot with bright green and his eyes such a piercing blue that Mark imagined would freeze a person in place with just one look. Mark had rarely seen someone who stood out as much as the new guy, sticking out like a sore thumb in the sea of tanned 18 year old Americans.

Mark gave Wade a nudge with his elbow. "I thought you said his name was Jack?" He whispered, watching the new boy out of the corner of his eye. 'Sean' was now glaring defiantly at Miss Fletcher who waited expectantly for his answer.

Wade shrugged, confusion evident on his face. "I swear that's what Bob said. Maybe I heard it wrong or-"

"Does he even speak English, Miss?" Came a shout from the back of the class. It was most likely from Ethan, the class douchebag. A glance behind him confirmed his suspicions, the dark haired teen with a band tee shirt and jeans was kicked back in his chair with his arms folded behind his head. "Like, are you sure he's not retarded?" Definitely Ethan.

Sean's eyes zoned in on the speaker as Miss Fletcher sent a few sharp words towards the loud mouthed boy. Mark watched in surprise as Ethan's face immediately drained of blood at the pure fury behind the new guy's glare despite the ways he tried to hide it by steeling his jaw and glaring back hotly.

Sean turned to the teacher and spoke for the first time, voice barely louder than a whisper. "No. Can I just sit down, now?" His voice had a distinct accent, an Irish lilt tugging at every word.

A loud snort could be heard from the back of the classroom. "What kind of an accent is that? Learn to speak English properly, idiot."

Miss Fletcher let a drawn out sigh leave her lips, didn't even bother to say anything to Ethan, instead waving a hand at the other students. "Go sit down McLoughlin."

Sean trudged over to the only empty table in the classroom which was to the right of Mark and Wade, set a little apart from the other students nearest the window. All alone he pulled his books from his bag and sat staring out the window, completely ignoring what the teacher was saying. Stuck in a daydream.

Mark watched as a scrunched up piece of paper was thrown from the back of the class and smacked the green haired boy in the back of the head. He watched as the other boy's hands curled into fists, anger clear on his face and the tension of his shoulders as he kept his glare on the window even though it looked as though he was barely restraining his rage. There was something about the new guy that made Mark's curiosity spike and he wasn't quite sure what to think about that just yet, maybe it was the hair that did it.

Suddenly the green haired boy's blue eyes were focused on Mark, defensive and carefully guarded. "What are you looking at?" Came a low growl, surprising Mark who snapped his gaze away, instead focusing on the book in front of him which he had open at a random page.

"Fischbach. McLoughlin. Could I please have your attention?"

Wade was giving him a strange look along with the curious eyes of rest of the class as Miss Fletcher looked at them both expectantly. "Well? I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but this is still class and you should be listening. Could one of you boys be so kind as to tell me the answer to my question?"

Mark bit his lip, knowing full well that he was heading for a detention, one way or the other. He didn't even know the question he was supposed to be answering.

"The answer's 12." Sean said carelessly, followed by a shrug. Obviously he hadn't been listening either but had decided to make a stab at the answer anyway. A few titters of laughter spread through the class in reply as Miss Fletcher's face screwed up in annoyance.

"That is incorrect Sean. Cavemen did not invent fire 12 years ago." The blonde said with a wrinkled nose, eyes almost rolling to the sky as she turned to the board. "Pay attention next time, please."

Ethan cupped his mouth with his hands. "Go back to where you came from, you stupid little bitch!"

Mark's eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. Sure, he'd expected Ethan and perhaps a few others to throw some cusses at the new boy, maybe poke some fun at his accent or hair, but what he hadn't expected was the sheer resentment Ethan's voice held. After all, the poor boy had barely been in class for ten minutes.

Mark began to speak, hoping to get Ethan to shut up with a sharp word or a rude gesture, however at that very moment Sean opened his own mouth. "Go suck a dick for all I care, you son of a bitch."

The atmosphere in the room changed, immediately becoming thick with tension as all eyes, except for perhaps Miss Fletcher's, shot to Ethan's slowly reddening face. His breathing was speeding up and his hands were clenched into tight fists, quivering with barely withheld rage.

"I'm no fag." He growled out, deep voice breaking the silence in an almost predatory snarl. "If you-"

At that very moment the bell for next class rang, high pitched and shrill, effectively breaking the thick air of danger that threatened to smother Mark. Sean practically jumped out of his seat, had his books shoved into his bag and was stepping out the door before Mark had even registered that it was time to leave.

Wade was watching the doorway through which Sean had disappeared just a few seconds ago. "He's a bit of a badass, I'll give him that."

Mark nodded absentmindedly, gathering his books up and was about to leave alongside his friend when Miss Fletcher called him back, giving Wade a wave of her hand to tell him to move on. When the door clicked shut behind Wade as he left, Miss Fletcher slumped a little in her chair a small sigh leaving her lips.

"Mark. Talking in class, really? I thought you were more mature than that." She began and Mark prepared himself for the rant that was sure to follow. His aunt wouldn't dream of giving his special treatment just because he was part of her family, a fact he had learned a very long time ago.

"Sorry, the new guy was just asking me a question and I-" He began, trying to formulate a decent excuse when the blonde held up her hand, stopping him in his tracks.

"Look Mark, I appreciate that you're a good kid and want to help Sean, but I would advise you to stay away from that boy," Miss Fletcher said quietly, hands clasped as she leaned forward to place her elbows on her desk. "He's all kinds of trouble. I don't know his story but it can't be a good one when his file has been locked in the principal's office. Please, just don't talk to him, it will save both your mother and myself a lot of worry."

Mark gave his aunt a look of pure confusion. She never acted like this. This was not the kind and compassionate woman that he was proud to call family who would normally try her very hardest to convince him to make new friends and try new things every single day. This was...he didn't know what this was. "Why? What makes you think he's so bad?"

He watched as she bit her lip and carefully avoided his eyes. "Mark, people like that. They don't get far in life. And if there's one thing that I don't want to see, it's you being brought down because you made friends with an outcast." Miss Fletcher began to write something down on a piece of spare paper. "You're a good kid, you get good grades and you have good friends. Don't make the mistake of letting one person take all that away from you, ok?"

Slowly Mark nodded, taking the piece of paper from his aunt's hand. "Fine, whatever you say," he heard himself say before walking out of the room. He felt like his shoes were made of lead, each step heavier and harder to take as his brain whirled with millions of questions. It wasn't until he was standing outside his next class that he actually made his decision. Maybe he would give this 'Sean' a chance. A glance towards the desk that Sean inhabited, all alone and silently hovering over his books.

Maybe Sean didn't want a chance.

Mark let out a sigh, there was really only one way to know for sure. Carefully ignoring the look Wade was sending him, Mark cautiously walked towards the empty seat beside Sean, praying he wasn't making a massive mistake.


	2. The Drunken Boyfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of memories and angry boyfriends (I'm terrible at summaries)

Jack P.O.V

America was no different than what Jack had expected it to be. Bright sunlight filtered through the windows of every corridor and every classroom, accented voices bubbled from everyone he met but the people here were the same as those he had left behind. They judged him by the way he looked, and went out of their way to avoid him.

That's the way he liked it. He still had his Ma who would be waiting patiently for his return as she wasted the day away watching crappy daytime TV and flicking through magazines she'd read ten times over. She still was the only person who could put a smile on his face at the end of the day though.

Once upon a time she worked as a nurse. She would come home at nearly the break of dawn and collapse into her bed, still dressed in her uniform.

Jack let a small smile play on his features as he remembered how he would sometimes wake up for school and find his mother passed out on the kitchen table, half a sandwich still in her hand and a cold mug of tea beside her head. Her light brown hair would be spilling out of her messy bun, and she would snore softly as he ran around their apartment in a panic, throwing on his uniform haphazardly and making a quick breakfast, leaving his Ma's plate of buttered toast on the table for when she woke up.

He used to give her a tiny kiss on the cheek before he bolted out the door to catch the bus, slinging his little backpack over his shoulder and closing the door behind him as quietly as he could so as not to wake her.

That was such a long time ago. Years actually.

All of a sudden Jack's train of thought was cut short, he wasn't alone anymore.

He blinked in surprise at the sound of someone throwing books down on the desk beside him and the dull thud of a body falling into a wooden chair.

There was a long beat of silence, filled with the awkward shuffling and fidgeting of some guy Jack vaguely remembered from History, as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat casting a nervous glance at Jack and catching his eyes. The green haired boy quickly snapped his gaze away.

Jack avoided looking at the guy again, fixing his eyes straight in front of him. Maybe, if he ignored him for long enough he'd go away and leave him in peace. But after a few seconds more of awkward silence there came a deep cough from the boy, who obviously expected Jack to acknowledge him at some point. Jack waited for a moment before taking another look.

The boy met his eyes squarely this time and Jack took the time to assess his appearance.

Dark brown eyes stood out from warm olive skin and a shock of thick dark hair covered his head, giving the teenager an almost foreign look. The guy was well built though, thick shoulders covered up with a light blue hoodie and Jack watched as he toyed with his jacket's sleeve nervously before speaking.

"Hey." He said, giving Jack the surprise of his life as the deep rich tone came out of his mouth. Jack wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that.

"Leave me alone." Jack growled, the words coming out harsher than he intended. All he wanted was to get through today. He had no time for friends and no time for school. He shouldn't even have come here in the first place.

The guy looked surprised at the other Jack's tone, eyes widening a little before annoyance clouded his features. "No need to be rude, I was just being friendly."

"Do me a favor and don't bother." Jack snapped, coupling the jagged words with a dark glare.

Jack turned to the front again, stubbornly refusing to look at the other boy for the rest of class. A mixture of guilt and anger swirled in his stomach as the minutes ticked by. Why was he being such a dick? The dude just wanted to be nice.

Thoughts ran through his head at an alarming speed. I don't want to be here. I can't stay here. Get me out. I should be at home.

As soon as the bell rang, he bolted out the door.

***

Jack slammed the door behind him as he stormed into the apartment he had been living in for the past few days along with his sister and her boyfriend. The place was old, small and rundown, a description that also suited their landowner, Mr Lions, who looked like he may crumple into dust at any given moment leaving only a pair of grey slippers and a slightly rusted zimmer frame behind.

The green haired boy thundered up the stairs into his room, closing the door behind him with a crash. It only took two minutes for there to come a loud knock at his door.

"Fuck off, Megan!" He yelled at the door, his face buried in the plain covers of his bed. His 24 year old sister, Megan, had moved out here to live with her boyfriend, Jason. She always complained when he slammed the doors in her house. She was probably going to give him another stupid lecture about Mr Lions' poor heart and how he should grow up. But right now, he really wasn't in the mood to hear about some old codger's heart problems.

The door swung open and the shadow of Jason darkened the doorway, a bottle of beer in hand. Jack had only recently met the guy and immediately took a disliking to the aura of douche bag that clung to him almost as much as his girlfriend. Jack's big sister was constantly near the tall man who had what seemed to be a permanent squint and hair so greasy you could fry an egg on it. Jack couldn't understand what Megan saw in him; The dude was far too loud, grumpy and had a dangerously quick temper which made him one of the main reasons Jack now preferred to stay out of the house. Now however, he was cornered.

"What the fuck are ya shoutin' bout?" Jason slurred, obviously having had a little bit too much to drink. He swayed a little where he stood, eyes unfocused and bloodshot. The stench of alcohol and sweat rolled off him in waves making Jack wrinkle his nose in disgust.

"None of your fucking business. Where's Megan?"

Jason's face flushed red with anger, blonde hair sticking to his forehead as his hands curled into fists. "Don' you..talk ta me like tha' in ma own fuckin' house!" He half yelled, moving closer to where Jack's body was curled up on his bed. "If I ask ya somethin' ya fuckin' answer me w' respect!"

Jack fixed his eyes on him, warily watching his every move. Then, of course, he opened his big mouth. "It's Megan's house, actually. I don't see your name on any of those bills. A slob like you can't even keep a job!"

If Jason had been angry before, now he was completely enraged. "Stupid lil bastard. Ya don' know anythin' bout me!" He was nearly at the edge of Jack's bed, who had shrunk back against the wall, staring up at the man towering over him with fear written all over his features.

Jason raised his fist, holding it surprisingly steady compared to the rest of his being, his legs wobbling from side to side like they were made of jelly. "I'll beat tha fuckin' shit outta ya, ya fuckin' bastard!"

Jack couldn't move. His muscles were tensed and his eyes were wide, adrenaline hummed through every single cell in his body, yet he couldn't move an inch. Blood rushed in his ears making everything muted, his heart was pumping so loud he briefly wondered if Jason could hear it. If he could actually hear just how terrified he was.

Still, none of that mattered because all he could do was sit there on the bed, paralyzed as Jason brought his fist down. Hard, fast and accurate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou so much for all the support for this book! I can't believe so many people seem to like it already!


	3. The Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ....umm y'know...family and stuff
> 
> If you haven't noticed I'm absolutely horrible at summaries just ignore me xD

Mark P.O.V

Mark couldn't believe how rude this 'Sean' was. Literally all he'd done was say hi and the guy had brushed him off in the bluntest fashion imaginable. Obviously the guy wasn't worth risking his family's disapproval over.

Wade had been pretty surprised at his actions yesterday, sitting beside the weird looking Irishman and leaving his best friend to sit by himself, but luckily Wade had quickly forgiven him when he offered to pay for pizza tomorrow.

Right now, Mark was lounging in his bedroom, mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

"Mark! Are you coming? Dinner's ready!" His mom yelled, the sound of her voice a little muffled from his door. The delicious smell of his dad's specialty, burgers, was already wafting into his bedroom, making his stomach make a noise like a dying whale.

He jumped off his bed, running down the stairs at top speed before reaching the living room where his sister was casually reading a book in her favorite chair, feet kicked up on a plushie and back slumped down into the sofa. "Where's dad?" He asked to which she raised a hand pointing to the garden without even bothering to look up.

"Thanks."

Mark walked out of the open, airy interior of his house and into the harshly bright sunlight, the heat beating down on him as he emerged from the shade of his doorway. Now, Mark's father, Allan, was a pretty laid back guy, he enjoyed living by the phrase 'Y.O.L.O' and repeatedly used it, loving how it made Mark wince a little every time he said it, as if it was an unholy curse. In fact right at this moment he was laid back on a deckchair in their reasonably sized garden, a plate of freshly made burgers sitting on the white, circular table beside him.

Allan wore a painfully bright Hawaiian shirt, the fluorescent yellow and orange clashing with his neon knee length shorts in a car crash of color and bad fashion choices. He had a pair of sunglasses balanced carefully on his head, replaced with his normal pair of red reading glasses which he was using to read the daily newspaper in the sunlight. He glanced up as his son walked up the grass and fell into the chair beside him.

"How was school?" Allan asked casually as Mark snatched up a burger and took a large bite. He raised an eyebrow as he watched his son groan at the taste and relax back into his chair. "By the way, enjoy that while you can. Carrie's got it in her head that she's gonna go vegetarian or vegan or whatever and I'm afraid we've all got to support her. Meaning, no meat from now on."

Mark almost choked on his food. "What the fuck do you mean no meat!?" He spat, after struggling to swallow his mouthful for nearly 5 minutes straight.

Suddenly Mark felt something slap him sharply in the back of the head, making him yelp with surprise. His hand jumped straight to the injured spot in his hair, rubbing it gently. He looked up to see his Mom, Ellen, standing behind him, a rolled up magazine in her hand. Her lips were pursed in disapproval but the dark look was undermined by the sunshine yellow sunhat she had on her head to block the blaring sun. "Mark! Watch your language!"

"But-" He began to protest but as soon as he saw his mother's searing glare he thought better of it and shut his mouth. "Nevermind."

At that she gave him a wide smile and began to settle herself into her own plain white wooden chair, her yellow sundress moving softly in the slight breeze. "Good boy."

Carrie was the next to saunter into the garden, a bowl of salad in her hands. Mark glared at her as she dropped into the chair opposite him, munching on a lettuce leaf, with her long, dark hair pulled up into a complicated looking knot away from her designer jacket.

Carrie was almost exactly 2 years younger than Mark, however that didn't seem to stop her having a new boyfriend every week and dressing like a slutty brat every single day of the week. He couldn't understand why she would want to wear those high heeled shoes when she was at home with her family and he couldn't understand her need to cake her face with a layer of makeup every morning but hey, it was her life. Anyway, back to the point.

"Why can't I have meat? It's not my fault Carrie decided she hates plants! Why the hell can't we just leave her to it?" Mark practically whined, shooting evil eyes at his sister who was looking far too smug for his taste.

Ellen narrowed her eyes at her son in disapproval. "Becoming vegetarian is a big commitment, Mark. It's our job as her family to support Carrie as much as possible. Plus, it's a much healthier lifestyle than guzzling beef and pork everyday and we will all benefit from the change."

"But I don't want to change! Carrie can do whatever the hell she likes, but I'm not doing this shit and you can't make me." Mark said stubbornly, arms folded and a grumpy frown on his face.

Ellen's voice turned stern. "Stop acting like such a child. You're 18 years old. Act like it."

Mark let out a quiet huff but sat up in his chair and took the last bite of his burger. "Fine."

"Good boy. Now, it's your turn to come with me to visit. Go change into something presentable, please, and do it quickly." Ellen urged, watching as her son groaned and stood from his seat, stretched and plodded up to his room.

***

Ten minutes later Mark was in the car, earphones stuck in his ears and music blaring full volume as he watched the houses fly by in a blur of color.

Mark's great aunt Caroline, who, when he was a kid, used to bring him and Carrie into the kitchen and teach him how to cook cookies, cakes, tarts and an assortment of other treats, without burning the house down. He admired her for taking up the task because he knew he was a complete and utter disaster when it came to food.

Basically about a year ago his great aunt Caroline was deemed unable to look after herself by her doctor due to a severe stroke she had while preparing her Christmas turkey. Seeing as none of her children could afford to stay with her 24/7, she was admitted to the local elderly home for the elderly. Sunny Side Retirement Home, a place about as warm and comforting as a sledge hammer. Immediately after her stroke her mental health began to crumble. Nowadays she could barely speak, bedridden unless a kind member of staff thought to help her walk to the boring day-room in the mornings.

Now, once a week, he and Carrie took it in turns to go with their mother to visit their great aunt, change the dead flowers on her bedside table and half yell questions like 'What did you do today?' and 'How are you feeling?' until their voices were scratchy and they were eventually heard.

Mark had grown to hate the place. The staff were rude, the residents looked at him funny and the entire place smelled of mold, vomit and antiseptic. However he had learned to hide his dislike over time, giving the staff warm smiles as he passed and making sure to ignore the stares the elderly residents constantly gave him like he had just awoken them from their nap.

There was no way to avoid that smell though. Sadly he just had to live with that one.

***

When Mark had sat beside his Great Aunt Caroline for about half an hour, listening to the grey haired woman speak nothing but nonsense with an odd curse thrown in, he'd had enough of the heartbreaking picture his once favorite relative had become. He told his mom he was going to the bathroom and strode out the door, relieved to have a break from the low murmurings of a mind slowly shutting down with age.

He weaved through the corridors with ancient decor and old men leaning heavily on walking sticks, that is, until he passed a room where the door hung wide open. All the other doors were locked on this floor, or closed at least. Why wasn't this one?

Mark peeked into the bedroom, curiosity overwhelming his urge to leave the building altogether. Inside he found a woman. She could've been around 40 with a pale thin face and dark brown hair. Despite her age she was beautiful, if a little on the skinny side, her cheek bones prominent and her jawline standing out starkly in the sunlight. The Tv on the wall of her bedroom was on, blaring out noise, but she wasn't paying the shouting presenter any attention. Her piercing blue eyes were fixed on him and she had a smile on her face, lighting up the room with the simple gesture.

Mark didn't know what to do.

If he walked away without saying anything he would be considered rude, but there was something wrong with the way she was looking at him. It was almost like she was looking past him, into a different reality that he couldn't see. Maybe she wouldn't notice if he left quietly.

He didn't get far, after just two steps away from the door frame the woman spoke, a note of almost panic in her voice. "Jack!? Where are you going?"

Mark closed his eyes, thinking.

He could walk away. This woman was obviously in here for a reason, her eyes were too distant and her body too frail to suggest otherwise. Then again, the way her face had brightened when her blue eyes landed on him; full of hope and happiness. It made his heart physically ache that he'd be the reason that happiness disappeared.

He could just walk away and leave this random woman far behind.

But he knew he wouldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god thank you so much for all the kudos and comments! I really hope you're enjoying this story :D


	4. The Pokemon Pyjamas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark's nosy and who the hell is 'Jack'?

Mark P.O.V

"I told them, Jack! I told them you'd come! Nobody believed me, but I told them, I said 'He wouldn't leave me on my own for a whole day! Never once missed a day and he won't start now,' and I was right. Here you are!" The woman chirped, a fading accent pulling at her words. Mark tried to place it for a second. Irish? Scottish? Was it any of his business?

The woman's mannerisms were bordering on hyper, her movements quick and jumpy like she'd just downed 6 cups of coffee in one sitting. She waved a hand towards Mark, beckoning him to sit in one of the uncomfortable brown chairs set out beside her bed with a giggle. Hesitantly he moved through the door and closed it behind him, shuffling closer to the bed until he could fall into the chair with a quiet sigh.

A look around the room revealed the woman either hadn't been here long or had no family to visit her. The floor was layered with worn out magazines and unlike his great aunt's room, there were no pictures or flowers from family and friends adorning her table or locker. Instead there was a single pack of candy; Skittles, Mark noted, the rainbow colored packaging adding a little brightness to the dull brown and cream color scheme of Sunny Side.

"Jack, why did they say you wouldn't come?" Came the woman's scratchy voice, snapping him out of his little daydream.

He blinked for a few seconds, unsure what to say. "W-well, I- I felt a bit ill earlier, wasn't sure if I could make it today."

A thought crept into Mark's mind as he looked at the woman lying in her bed. Who was this 'Jack' guy? Was he her brother? Husband? Son? Father? Why wasn't he here? Didn't he turn up? Was he ok? Was he just a dick who left mentally unstable women in a home and never came back? The questions spiraled through Mark's head at a million miles per hour until he eventually gave up on them. After all, who would answer him?

The woman's smile fell a little before brightening again. "But you're here now!"

He nodded giving her a tiny smile, guilt pricking at his stomach. "Yeah, I'm here now."

She clapped her hands in her joy before lying back on her bed again and looking at the television. She seemed to become transfixed by the man on the screen who was commentating over a football game of some sort. It was in this moment that Mark's foot hit something.

He was going to ignore it, he really was. But then, as time wore on and the woman showed no signs of moving any time soon, he risked a glance under the bed to see what his foot kept knocking against.

The glance revealed a little black rucksack was stashed under the bed. There was a tiny design on the fabric, drawn on with marker. It was a little green thing, maybe some sort of eye with a tail? Mark moved closer to the drawing in confusion. What the hell was that thing even supposed to be?

"Jack!"

Mark looked up at the woman whose gaze was now firmly fixed on him once more. "Yeah?"

Her face broke into her trademark mile wide smile again. "You can't eat the sand, honey! C'mere you've got it all down your front, ya silly!" She giggled lightly, reaching out a thin hand to gently caress the air in front of her like it was something special, beautiful. The look on her face was nothing short of pure adoration and awe as she looked straight through Mark and deeper into her daydream.

The few seconds which followed were filled with a ridiculous tension that held Mark's every muscle stationary. He didn't have the heart to shatter the look of absolute peace on the nameless woman's face by making any sudden movements.

When he eventually realized that she wasn't going anywhere any time soon his eyes traveled back to the bag in his hands, curiosity creeping into his mind like mist. His fingers began to toy with the zip, the temptation proving to be too much for him as he finally tightened his grip and opening the bag with a few sharp tugs.

Inside there was a small bundle of clothing for someone around his age, maybe a little younger. The blue hoodie and jeans looked well worn and frayed with age plus a pair of pajama bottoms, which made Mark snort quietly with laughter despite his best attempts at keeping as quiet as possible. I mean, seriously? Pokemon pyjamas? How old was this guy, 6?

With a wary glance at the woman to double check she wasn't staring at him again, he reached his hand into the bag again, his fingers brushing against something that felt like card.

Mark carefully pulled it out, casting a glance at the woman once more before focusing on the object in his hands. It was a photo, old fashioned and dog eared at the corners. There was a man, tall and skinny with a mustache and afro that practically screamed 1990s fashion; a little girl clinging onto his leg, hiding her face in his shirt. Standing beside him with a massive grin on her face, was the woman, much younger than she was now, her blue eyes shining through the terrible picture quality and her hands clutching a little bundle of blankets close to her chest.

The half-Korean let a tiny smile play on his lips at the tiny baby's forehead poking out of the cover of the blankets and a chubby little hand fighting it's way into view.

Suddenly the door crashed open behind Mark making him nearly leap out of his seat in surprise. The woman in front of him made no move to indicate she had noticed the noise at all but the carer who walked in at a brisk pace obviously didn't care that he could have literally given Mark a mild heart attack.

"Are you ready for your tablets, Samantha?" He asked, a bottle of pills and a glass of water in his hand. The carer had dirty blonde hair paired with pale blue eyes and Mark noted that his name tag simply read 'Felix' in bold letters.

Samantha stayed frozen in time, staring at the tv without acknowledging the carer at all. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was slightly open with something close to shock covering her features.

Felix walked over to her bedside and waved a hand in front of her face. When he got no response he looked the woman in the eyes, hand placed carefully on her shoulder, before speaking slowly and clearly. "Where are we right now, Sam?"

There was a beat of silence before the woman's thin voice broke it. "The seaside."

"And who's with you?" Felix asked softly. He had a foreign accent, something that Mark couldn't quite place but he knew it couldn't be local.

"Jack and..." The woman trailed off, eyes still fixed on the screen as she winced a little at something that Mark couldn't see.

The carer nodded at the answer before turning to Mark, confusion flashing across his face for a second. "Hey Ja- who are you?"

Mark blushed and opened his mouth to speak but Samantha called out before he could answer.

"Jack! Jack!"

It took Mark a few seconds to realize he was the one being spoken to and when he did he turned his gaze back to the dark haired woman whose eyes had all but doubled in size.

"Yes?" He asked quietly, assuming that manners and decency might somehow get him out of this situation. Smart, right?

She moved around in her bed, pointing behind him at nothingness. "The tide's coming in!" She giggled, almost tangling herself up in her sheets in her excitement. Suddenly, her features dissolved into pure fear. "No! No! Jack! It's not safe! Get out of the water!" She began to thrash against her blankets, her arms and legs flying out in her desperation, screams ripped from her throat in her terror.

Felix jumped into action, reaching for the distress button beside the Samantha's bed. Immediately two more carers ran into the room, trying to hold the woman still. Mark saw the flash of a needle before it was injected into the thrashing woman and he watched as her shrieks died down to quiet whimpers and her wild movements spiraled into pathetic flails.

Mark was sat rigid in his seat, watching with eyes like dinner plates. He didn't want to watch but he couldn't tear his eyes away as he was dragged out the door as more staff piled into the cramped room. He caught one final glimpse of her face.

Mark could safely say it was one of the scariest things he had ever seen in his life.

Where there once had been a glint of happiness, childlike joy almost, there was now a cold and blank stare. He felt a shiver run down his spine. Now he could see how truly sick this woman was. Her face looked bony and full of sharp angles in the blue torch light someone was shining into her eyes. Her hair was a straggly mess, matted and tangled, cut off at her shoulders. Her eyes had dark purple rings underneath them, like bruises.

***

Mark was roughly pulled into the badly decorated corridor. He shivered violently, surprising himself at the cool air brushing his skin. Was it really that hot in there? He hadn't noticed.

He felt someone touching his shoulder. Looking up he realized Felix was holding him up against the wall with a firm hand, face calm and eyebrows slightly furrowed with concern as he studied Mark's face carefully. Mark hadn't even noticed him.

"You ok?" The carer asked, breaking the silence that hung between the two. Mark could still hear the staff muttering in the room beside them, a few were already leaving, heading back to their stations now that all the excitement was over.

Instead of answering Mark straightened himself, shrugging Felix's hand off his shoulder in an attempt to feel less useless and weak. I mean come on, he didn't know that woman. He'd only heard her name a few minutes ago and spent nearly half an hour just sat beside her out of some stupid sense of obligation that struck him. She didn't even know his real name, she didn't have a clue who he was. He had no reason to care.

But if that was the case, then why did he still feel so...numb?

"It's shit, isn't it?" Felix said, making Mark look up, a defensive look on his face before Felix held his hands up. "Hey, I've been there too, bro. I'm not judging."

Mark drew his eyebrows together in confusion. "You? B-but this is your job. Don't you get used to it?"

The blonde haired man was leaning casually against the wall, looking down at Mark, one of his hands stuffed into his pocket and the other playing with the bottom of his uniform shirt. He looked so calm and collected, like he delt with this shit on a regular basis. Which he probably did.

"Yeah, I guess you do, but on my first day here they kinda threw me in at the deep end. There was an elderly man suffering from post traumatic stress who had to be calmed down, just like Sam in there, because he could've caused injury to himself or others. I was fresh out of college, but I still had no idea what to do." Felix said quietly, a sad smile on his face. "I remember feeling like crap for about an hour after it happened. I thought I should've done something to help."

Mark looked down at the carpet, studying the faded red and gold patterns which clashed painfully with the bright pink and green wallpaper. He felt like he needed a bit of a break. Pictures flashed through his mind, screenshots of what he had just seen; Sam's bright smile when she first saw him and her dull, dead expression when she was 'calmed'.

Felix shuffled a little, just watching Mark before speaking. "What are you doing here, anyway? You her family? I've never seen you before."

The half Korean felt his cheeks flush a little. "No, I- I'm not family. Just a friend."

Yeah, just a friend who doesn't even know her second name, met her a grand total of 30 minutes ago and lead her to believe that he was 'Jack', whoever the hell that was. Nice one.

The carer shrugged, pulling a little at his dark blue uniform. "So you're a friend of Jack's then? I heard he wasn't coming today. I'm almost glad, that kid could use the break."

There he was again. Who was this guy?

Mark frowned a little. "What makes you say that?"

Felix snorted. "Well, I talk to him every single day when I go in to give his mom her medicine. I was getting kinda worried that the guy had nowhere else to go. I swear if I didn't send him home he'd sleep here every night. Are you bringing him his stuff?"

Mark's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the question before he followed his the carer's inquiring gaze. He was still holding the little black bag, the photo squished into his fist. He must've forgotten to let go.

Mark opened his mouth to speak again but before he could say a word a loud beep split the air. His confusion at the noise was soon remedied by Felix pulling a bleep alarm from his pocket, the red light on the little machine flashing.

"Crap! Sorry, I've got to go. Hope you feel better now and I guess I'll see you around. Tell Jack to get some rest from me!" He yelled over his shoulder as he set a half jog down the corridor, expertly weaving in and out of residents as he went.

Mark stood against the wall, watching until the blonde head had disappeared completely out of sight. With one more glance at the now closed door of Samantha's room he began to walk in the direction of his Aunt Caroline's room, his mind filled with questions about who the actual fuck 'Jack' even was and what was he supposed to do with his goddamn backpack with some random stranger's stupid kiddie pyjamas.

I never liked Pokemon much anyway, Mark thought, as he let his legs carry him further and further away from Sam's room, filing his memories safely into the back of him mind for later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not so sure about this chapter but meh, if it's crap be sure to tell me. Also I am so sorry that this is so freaking long! Honestly I just couldn't find a good place to break it off until i was over 2000 words in so I hope it wasn't too long xD Thank you to anyone who has commented or left kudos on this story I really appreciate it :D


	5. The Video Game Logic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack fixes himself up

Jack P.O.V

Do you know what? Maybe Jack was wrong about the people in America.

You see, he always thought they were all judgmental assholes, people who enjoyed listening in on other people's problems just to distract them from their own. He truly believed that all they wanted was more juicy gossip to spread through the world and place a black spot on someone's reputation.

And for the most part, he still thought that was true.

But not everyone.

For example, the people in the hospital were great.

He had immediately liked the massive red brick building from the offset. It was tightly sandwiched between an ancient bookstore and a newly opened music store, the hospital weirdly fitting in between the two; a comfortable mixture of old and new. Mind you, Jack was holding his arm tightly to him chest at the time and winching in pain with every step he took, so that was another reason to be glad that the hospital was finally coming into sight.

Jack could remember everything that happened with an alarming clarity. Especially the way Jason enjoyed waiting a few seconds, giving Jack a little hope that it was over, before bring his fist down in another punch, always harder and more brutal than the last. The stench of burning alcohol made his nose sting as it surrounded him like a blanket.

Pure force from the drunken man's rage made the Irishman groan quietly at every knock, the embarrassingly weak whimpers mixing into the sound of skin hitting bone and his own quiet gasping for air that refused to enter his lungs. Soon enough Jack was pulled off the bed by his green hair, Jason slurring insults as he dumped him on the ground like a sack of potatoes, proceeding to attack with harsh kicks to the boy's stomach and back.

It didn't take long for Jack to give up on his attempts to protect himself. After the first few hits to the head he began to feel dizzy, the world spinning around him in a blur of confusing colors and sharp pain. The more hits he took, the worse it got. Dark spots danced across his vision and he could feel himself start to loose consciousness.

When all of a sudden, it stopped.

The sound of a bottle smashing was distantly heard before the slamming of the front door and the squealing of tires. Jack couldn't help but hope Jason was drunk enough to drive off a fucking cliff.

He didn't know how long he lay, half curled on his bedroom floor, before he finally dared to move. Even then, it was only to release the breath he couldn't remember holding. All of a sudden he could feel himself retching, his mouth filled with blood and his body spasm violently with every choked sound he made. He could taste his own disgustingly metallic blood, he felt it run freely from his mouth and down his chin, dripping slowly onto the floorboards. He couldn't even find the energy in himself to reach up and wipe it away.

The pain was unbearable. Every move he made sent lightning through his nerves and he cried out more than once as he struggled to drag himself onto the bed, his legs unable to carry his weight. His right arm throbbed and he felt his loud, labored breathing pick up when he realized he couldn't move his hand without almost collapsing in pure agony. After multiple failed attempts to pull himself up he gave up, breaths coming in heaves and hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

Jack tried to assess the damage. His stomach and back ached where he was sure bruises littered the skin under his shirt, turning him black and blue. He had a horrible feeling his right arm was broken but decided to try and keep it as still as possible anyway, in case he could somehow make the injury worse. That's what people do in games, right? They don't just sit there and wait to die, they patch themselves up.

Sadly though, Jack wasn't in a video game.

He felt his every muscle screaming in protest as he threw in a last ditch attempt at climbing onto his bed. This time he actually managed to heave his torso onto the blankets, eyes tightly closed the only sound was his own pained grunting. When he was finally on the bed he took a break, letting his body rest for a few seconds before he attempted his next mission. Because this is how Sean McLoughlin thinks when he's in a bad situation. If this were a video game, what would be his next mission?

Because video game logic is obviously something people should follow in real life. Except maybe not horror game logic because that shit's just messed up.

Gathering up all the strength he had in his slim body he managed to sit up on the side of the bed. He didn't even bother looking down at himself or trying to assess just how bad things were, his only objective was to find a way to reach the bathroom across the hall; preferably without collapsing.

It took a long time. Far too long.

Jack could feel tears pricking his eyes as he hauled himself across the tiled floor to sit on the side of the bath. He could see himself in the mirror and what he saw frankly terrified him. His face was a mess of blood, tears and bruises. He could see the light blue of his new bruises showing up on his pale skin already and that was just what wasn't covered with blood. One of his eyes were slightly swollen where the skin just above it had opened, the blood was dried and crusted because he had taken so damn long.

He gasped quietly when he bent down to open the cupboard under the sink, carefully pulling out an old rag that Megan used to remove her makeup with. Running the cloth under cold water he began the slow and tedious task of cleaning himself up with only his left hand as his right was currently lying on his lap, completely useless. There wasn't a clock in the bathroom that he could check the time on, but he knew that his Ma would be sleeping by now, probably after convincing one of the friendlier carers, maybe Felix, to read her something before fatigue would overwhelm her and she would sleep like a log until at least 1pm tomorrow.

Jack's heart broke at the thought of his mother being so alone that she would appeal to strangers for company. It should be him doing that. He should have been there for her but instead he was forced to go to school and then he pissed of Jason because school stressed him out and now he was in this fucking mess.

He let out a hiss when he accidentally pressed too hard on one of his many bruises and closed his eyes. What was the point? He had let his Ma down. Of course she probably wouldn't remember it tomorrow, but he knew in his heart, that he had left her completely alone in a building full of strangers just because he was an absolute fucking idiot who couldn't keep his gob shut.

Looking into the mirror, Jack deemed himself reasonably clean despite the smudges of red around his nose and neck, and then decided to try and stand. After several failed attempts he managed to take a few steps without gripping the sink for dear life, although his left ankle continued to send jolts of excruciating pain up his leg every time he tried to put weight on it; hence, the limp.

The point was, he could walk. He couldn't walk fast, it was more of a shuffle actually, but he knew that he simply couldn't do anything about his stupid arm other than hold it close to his chest and try to move it as little as physically possible.

Eventually, after grabbing a random zip up and putting one arm through it, zipping it up over his suspected broken wrist and making sure his blood speckled t-shirt was completely covered, he made it out the door of his sister's apartment. He had nearly fallen down the stairs for his trouble but luckily he was able to catch himself before he went tumbling head first into even more pain, something he really didn't need right now.

He made his way through the slowly darkening streets at an excruciatingly slow pace and by the time the hospital came into view, he was practically staggering like a drunkard. Jack would have laughed were he not in such pain, because anyone who saw him would simply assume he'd drank one too many like the Irishman he was. Ah, stereotypes. Although, he supposed, technically in this country he was below the legal age. Fucking American rules.

Anyway, like I said before, Jack felt like he somehow immediately bonded with the hospital staff that attended him on a spiritual level. You see, Jack was almost worried to go to hospital, too many questions, too many nosy people who could get him thrown out.

However he needn't have worried, the nurse who came to see him just took one look at him and rolled her eyes, pointing at the waiting room. "Go in there, the Doctor should see you in a few minutes. Be thankful there are no appointments this evening."

Jack let a small smirk play on his lips. "Thank you."

She gave him a tired smile. "No problem. No need to look so worried, you're in good hands."

He nodded, wandering into the waiting room and sighing with almost relief as he carefully sat in one of the multiple uncomfortable chairs available. There was another person who entered the waiting room not long after, an elderly lady who immediately began reading one of the outdated magazines on offer about two seats along from him. She looked up from her celebrity gossip to shoot him a dark look, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

Jack shifted a little under the glare. Jesus, the woman was looking at him like he just stolen one of her cats and used it as a furry door stop.

"Next!" Came a yell from the doctor's office.

The Irishman let out a sigh as he stood. What even was his life anymore?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg I'm actually keeping a schedule guys! This never happens with me! Lol i will try my best to get a new chapter out every other day...please emphasis the word 'try' there :D
> 
> also this story hit 100 kudos! (i know i probably say it too much) but thankyou anyway :P


	6. The Stereotypical Irish Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark's got a crush and stereotypes

Mark P.O.V

When Mark arrived at school the next day he had his rucksack slung over one shoulder and Jack's black bag in his hand. He'd decided last night that Jack, whoever he was, must at least go to his school. After all, the clothes inside the bag were small enough that they couldn't possibly belong to anyone older than Mark so he assumed Jack must be in the year below him.

While he waited at the gates for Wade to arrive he wondered how the fuck he was going to explain why he had the goddamned bag in the first place. Sadly his brain couldn't seem to come up with an excuse that wouldn't result in him getting punched in the face by some random kid.

_'Hi, I kinda tricked your mom into thinking that I was you and then, while I was looking through your stuff she had a massive fit. I accidentally took it with me when I was pulled out and now I'm too scared to put it back, sorry.'_

Now that doesn't sound very good, does it? And Mark didn't particularly fancy becoming some Junior's goddamn punching bag.

When Wade finally appeared, literally 3 minutes before the bell for first class rang, he found Mark leaning against the school gates, a dark frown on his features as he thought.

"You ok?" Wade asked, looking at the other boy with concern. Mark was never the type to look into things too deeply so to see his friend look so worried he figured something terrible must have happened. "What's with the bag?"

Mark blinked for a second, coming back to the real world with a jolt when he saw the expression on Wade's kind face. He debated for a second on whether or not to tell his best friend everything that had happened yesterday. On one hand, Wade could probably help him find Jack faster than just him by himself, but on the other, telling him would mean Mark would have to face just how real those memories were. And he didn't think he could do that just yet.

"I'm fine, and I have gym today." He replied, guilt swirling in his stomach at the lie. If there was one person he shouldn't be lying to, it was Wade.

The taller of the two raised his eyebrows in disbelief before eventually letting a small smirk grow on his face. "You mean you've got an entire class of looking at Ashley Graham's ass in gym shorts."

Mark playfully smacked his friend on the shoulder, loud laughter filling the air as the two began to walk to their first class. "Shut up!"

Ashley Graham was by far the best looking girl in their year in Mark's eyes. She had everything he wanted in a girl. The cropped short red hair and a splash of freckles across her cheeks, complimented by her bright green eyes and inquisitive personality. She was smarter than he could ever be, always talking about new movies she had seen, books she had read or people she had met, with such enthusiasm that he couldn't help but develop a little crush on her. Ok, maybe it was more than a little crush.

Something Wade enjoyed constantly teased him about.

As they walked into their first class, just as the bell rang, Wade gave Mark a playful nudge with his arm. "C'mon you know it's true. You know you wanna tap that."

Mark snorted when Wade suggestively wiggled his eyebrows. "Maybe I do, but-"

The grin dropped from his face when he spotted the Irish kid from yesterday, what was his name? Shawn? Shane? Sean? Seth? Sitting at his desk alone with one eye swollen shut and one of his arms wrapped up in a sling. He wasn't moving much, instead letting his face hold a permanent expression of exhaustion, dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a black shirt with writing so faded that Mark couldn't even read it.

At the other end of the classroom Ethan and his group of friends, most of whom were acquired from the football team and cheerleading squad, were becoming rowdier by the second, Ethan making wild hand gestures and punching the air in front of him like he was describing some kind of fight.

"What the hell happened to him?" The half Korean asked Wade who shrugged, obviously not particularly caring very much what happened to the guy so long as it had nothing to do with him.

Mark was about to sit in his seat next to Wade when the classroom door opened suddenly. Miss Fletcher stood in the doorway, speaking to their geography teacher Mr Peters in a low voice. The class quietened down a little but stayed where they were until Mr Peters gave a final nod and walked over behind his desk saying, "Mr Fischbach, I do believe Miss Fletcher wants a word with you outside."

Mark sighed and stood. She probably wanted an update on how Great Aunt Caroline was doing, he had no idea what to tell her. Maybe he could just talk some bull about how she was looking better or something and she'd leave him alone.

When he was outside the classroom, door shut behind him, he turned to his aunt, an expectant look on his face. "What is it?"

The blonde woman looked down at him with fire in her eyes. "You spoke to that boy, didn't you?" She bit out harshly. "After I warned you not to, you went on ahead and sat beside him in your very next class. Don't even try to lie to me Mark. What were you thinking? I told you, that boy is dangerous!"

Mark looked at his aunt with wide eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about. He's done nothing wrong!"

Miss Fletcher let out an extremely unladylike snort, something Mark would happily bet she wouldn't do in front of any of her other students if you paid her. "Please. Have you not heard what he did last night?"

Mark's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, peeking into the classroom and assessing the green haired boy's condition. "Well no, but I have a feeling he may have fallen down a few flights of stairs. Anyway, I didn't know you listened to the student gossip."

His aunt gave him a light smack on the arm. "Don't be so cheeky. Trust me, I don't do it for my own amusement, I'm only looking out for you. You need to be around the right kind of people if you want to get anywhere in life, and I'll tell you right now, that boy in there, is not the right kind of person to be around."

Mark sighed, biting back a retort that would definitely have earned him detention. "What did he do, anyway?"

"I was talking to Mrs Gardener this morning and-" Miss Fletcher began before Mark cut her off.

"Wait, isn't she that crazy cat lady who used to give me out of date chocolates for Christmas?"

"They weren't _that_ out of date." His aunt argued.

"They had freaking mold all over them!"

She rolled her eyes. "Didn't stop you from eating them."

The dark haired boy huffed, pouting childishly and crossing his arms in defeat. "Touche."

"Well, as I was saying, Mrs Gardener told me a wonderful story about a green haired hooligan who staggered into the hospital last night, reeking of alcohol and covered in blood." Mark's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. What the hell happened?

His aunt continued, face set like stone, cold and sharp. "Then, when she was talking to nephew this morning, it turns out that none other than Sean McLoughlin attacked that poor boy last night in some sort of drunken rage. I'm glad to say Ethan escaped the brawl unscathed but obviously Sean wasn't so lucky."

Mark couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was it true? Was Sean as much of a trouble maker as everyone seemed to think he was? All the evidence showed that he was guilty as charged, his injuries not helping his case in any way shape or form.

"Mark." Mark turned back to the blonde haired woman who now had a deadly serious look on her face. She spoke slowly and quietly but Mark knew that this time she wasn't mess around. She meant what she said. "I don't want to see you anywhere near that boy. He's broken multiple laws and he's barely been here a week. Just what you'd expect from one of those Irish families, I hear they bring their children up on alcohol and violence. I blame the parents. But if he keeps doing what he's doing, he'll be the town drunk before he's reached 21. I don't want that to rub off on you. Stay away from him. And I mean it this time. Understood?"

Mark nodded silently, mind still buzzing at the information he had just been presented with. He briefly wondered who exactly was standing in front of him and where the hell had is aunt gone, because he couldn't recognize his aunt in the woman that stood before him, spouting bullshit about other people's families without taking any real guilt from doing so.

His aunt smiled. "Good. Now, how's your Auntie Caroline?"

***

When Mark finally got back to class, it was almost time for it to end. Not that he was complaining, geography certainly wasn't one of his strong points. But while everyone else was packing away their books, Mark was staring at a small slip of paper that he hadn't set there himself.

The handwriting wasn't one he recognized and he blinked at the words hastily scribbled on the page in surprise.

_**Behind the bleachers, after school. Bring the goddamn bag.** _

Well perhaps he wouldn't have to find Jack after all.

Apparently Jack found him first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so learning guitar and then trying to type HURTS...owie  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!


	7. The Crazy Gym Teacher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crazy teachers and some actual happiness!

Jack P.O.V

Jack couldn't believe the situation he was in.

There he sat, innocently minding his own business when he noticed the bag sitting beside an abandoned desk, almost like it was supposed to be there.

He recognized it immediately, a shock of fear running through him at the sight of it lying out in such a public place. What the fuck was it doing here, of all places?

If someone found that bag then they must know something about him. But the question was, how much did they know?

Because everyone has their secrets and their little stories to tell but Jack could write a book, maybe two, on all the bullshit he'd gone through in his lifetime. By this point he couldn't care less about what people thought of him.

In fact as the day had gone by he had noticed students stopping to stare as he walked through the corridors and teachers constantly whispering to each other while he did his work. Students were never really the most subtle creatures on the planet; so Jack figured out rumors were flying about him pretty early on.

Now the truth was, he didn't really give a flying fuck what any of these meaningless, self absorbed, arrogant people thought of him. But if any person, be they student, pupil or the fucking president, uttered a single goddamned word against his mother; he would cheerfully stuff the little bitch into a meat grinder and then feed the resulting slop to a pack of hungry dogs.

Safe to say he was just a tad protective over his family.

But then again, who could blame him?

Ever since he was 7 his ma was the only person he could turn too. She looked after him, cared for him, loved him like any parent should. She worked hard at her job and put up with his stupid questions which he asked every single day of the week.

Seriously, he was one annoying little shit.

Anyway, Jack was currently heading to his first ever American 'gym' class. He had only ever seen the hardcore American football teams and extremely energetic cheerleaders through the tv screen, normally heavily based on worn out stereotypes and mind numbing cliches. But this class was something he had been looking forward to about as much as he looked forward to seeing Jason again.

Yeah. That much.

He strode into the changing rooms, almost welcoming the pungent odor of sweat and body spray when it assaulted his nose as soon as he place one foot through the door. Inside other people in his class were already changing into their kit; a plain white shirt and some boring grey shorts. He vaguely recognized the boy who sat beside him in class yesterday as he walked in and a shot of guilt went through him at how much of an asshole he had been. It's not like he meant to do it. He just prefers to be alone.

Then he noticed something.

Not only was the guy holding Jack's bag. _His_ private belongings. But he also held the note Jack had written on a whim and left on the empty desk, not long before class ended.

Well, this was interesting.

Looks like this guy wasn't as nice as he first appeared, Jack thought as he struggled to changed his shirt with one hand, trying to keep an eye on the dark haired boy at the other end of the room who obviously must've forgotten his kit or something because he wasn't making any attempt to change.

Suddenly the sound of a shrill, high pitched whistle broke through the muted sounds of low voices, echoing around the room in a harsh clash of noise that made Jack jump.

"Are you lot finished applying your makeup yet? Hurry up!" Came a gruff shout from the door that Jack could only assume lead to the gym hall. The group of grumbling boys, minus the dark haired boy with his bag Jack noticed, slowly plodded out of the dull changing rooms, Jack not far behind them, and into the brightly lit gym where a small group of girls and an extremely short man stood waiting for them.

Jack blinked at the tiny man whose curly mane of dark hair reached his shoulders and a neatly trimmed beard covering his chin. The man, although short in stature, was by far the most intimidating teacher Jack had met so far. His face was full of angles, his face seeming to be permanently stuck in an expression of pure hatred and an aura of authority surrounded him like a thick fog, something Jack couldn't help but shrink away from. Eventually Jack managed to catch the gym teacher's name when a comically tall kid had to explain why he didn't have his kit.

"Well boy? Do you think my class is some sort of game? Huh?! Do you just walk in here, unprepared for my class and think 'No need to worry, it's just Mr Miller's class, he'll be fine with it.' Is that what you think, boy?!" The entire room was a silent as a graveyard as the gym teacher practically screamed into the boy's face, the older man's eyes bugging out of his skull in a way that reminded Jack of a frog.

Jack bit his lip, willing himself to keep a straight face. That boy was twice the size of little Mr Miller; He could break him with a sneeze. But all the same there he was, being publicly humiliated by a vertically impaired, shrieking teacher who looked ready to explode at any second.

Suddenly Mr Miller paused in his rant and looked around at the students who stood, wide eyed, watching the drama unfold. "What are you looking at? I certainly never asked to see your ugly mugs staring at me like rabbits caught in headlights. Get into groups of threes and for god's sake don't start any arguments about it."

The class descended into chaos for a few seconds; Friends fighting through the crowd to reach each other, people huffing with frustration when their desired group was full and Jack being pushed and shoved from side to side as students rushed past him in a whirlwind of stubborn determination. At one point he actually feared for his life.

Mr Miller's enormous eyes landed on Jack and his eyebrows came down into a scowl. "And who are you?"

All eyes turned to Jack and he allowed his features to sink into a relaxed expression of carelessness. "Sean McLoughlin, sir."

Mr Miller scrutinized him for a few more seconds before briskly nodding. "Yes, I believe Miss Fletcher might've mentioned you at some point. What happened your arm, McLoughlin?" The teacher asked, gesturing towards the sling.

Jack could sense all the ears on red alert at that moment, desperate to hear even a little sliver of gossip that they could spiral way out of control. He had to be careful with this. He couldn't show weakness. So with that though he gave a nonchalant shrug. "I just sprained it when I fell down the stairs, sir. Nothing to worry about."

Mr Miller gave him a long and hard stare before loudly clapping his hands, effectively startling at least half the class with the abrupt noise. "Alright McLoughlin, you can go over there with Miss Graham and Miss Webb as they seem to be without a third person." The two girls looked friendly enough, and when Jack went to stand beside them they smiled at him cheerfully. "Now-"

"Sir?"

Jack turned to see that the dude who stole his bag had just walked in, still dressed in his normal clothes and a piece of paper in his hand. "Sorry, I'm a bit late. I have a note."

Jack prepared himself for Mr Miller to loose it again, ready for the onslaught of noise that was too come from the short, angry man. But his jaw nearly hit the floor when Mr Miller simply shrugged. "Sit over to the side. I'll see your note after class. Now, as I was saying, in your groups you will be creating a performance together. Now, I don't care what you do so long as it's within the school rules. You have this class to plan."

Turning back to the two girls he had been grouped with, Jack raised an eyebrow. "Why did he get off so easily?"

The one who answered him looked far too excited to see him. "Oh my god! You're so _Irish_!"

Jack blinked. "Ummm."

The second girl let out a light giggle, her laughter so quiet it could have easily been lost in the noisy atmosphere of the gym. "Stop it, Ashley! You'll scare him away."

They were both extremely pretty, Jack had to admit that. The first had the winning combo of flaming red hair and shining green eyes but the second was a more muted kind of pretty with soft blue eyes and a kind round face. But the problem Jack was having at the moment was the fact that they were staring at him like he was some kind of creature that should be kept in a zoo, gawking at him shamelessly without any indication that they planned to stop any time soon.

"I ugh..."

The first girl, Ashley, grinned, stepping forward to examine his face closer. Jack could literally feel her breath brushing against his skin, she was that close.

"You know, I kinda expected you to be shorter. Maybe with some better fashion sense, perhaps more green, more ginger too." She hummed, far too close to Jack for his own personal comfort. "Still, you look pretty good."

Then the second girl pipped up, her voice was as quiet as her laugh but it was strange, almost like she was singing the words. "Say something Irish for us! Please! Say, top of the morning to ya or potatoes or something! Pleasee!"

Jack tried to hold back his laughter. "You know, you two are kinda rude."

The girl with the blue eyes frowned, assuming the look of a kicked puppy all of a sudden. "Sorry, we didn't mean to offend you or anything. It's just we were so looking forward to seeing a real live leprechaun in it's human disguise and we just got a little carried away, I guess. Please don't be mad at us, I could really use those 3 wishes."

He waited a few seconds for the other shoe to drop. Was this a joke? It had to be a joke. There was no way they actually believed that. Jack looked into the girl's solemn face, searching for any sign. There was none.

_No freakin way._

He just couldn't do it anymore.

Loud and uncontrollable laughter rippled up from his stomach and out of his mouth before he could do anything to stop it. He clapped his good hand over his mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound as his body shook with giggles that he knew the entire hall could hear. It echoed off the walls and he knew that every single eye was on him. But he couldn't stop. This was the best he'd felt in months.

Slowly his chuckles died down into hiccups of laughter. He looked up to see the entire class staring; some looking rather amused themselves while others sent him death glares. Mr Miller was one such death glare and the sight immediately sobered Jack up to the point where he only had a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"Would you like to share the joke with the rest of the class, Mr McLoughlin?"

Jack, still giddy from his laughing fit, let out a few giggles. "No, sir. Sorry, sir."

"Miss Graham? Miss Webb? Nothing to say?"

The girls shared a look before answering in usion. "No, sir."

"Alright, carry on!" The teacher barked, going back to completely ignoring the class in favor of reading some kind of body building magazine.

Jack let a proper smile spread across his face and held out his hand to the two girls. "Don't you guys worry, I'm far from offended. I'm Sean by the way, might as well introduce myself seeing as you're stuck with me."

The ginger girl was the first one to grab his hand, her grip just a little too tight and her shaking just a little too enthusiastic. "Good. I'm Ashley Graham and she's Hannah Webb. Now, is it true that you were drunk last night?"

Jack almost sighed at the question. Funny. He thought he might've actually found some Americans that he could get along with. Looks like they were all attention seeking, gossip hungry people like he first thought.

Sometimes he just wanted to be proved wrong. Just once.

But instead of letting out his frustration he put on a smug smirk and nodded, playing up to the spotlight that he knew was centered on him. "Yeah, I was."

Ashley let out a scandalized gasp. "You're so bad! What was it like? What did you do? Did you get in a fight? Did you get hurt fighting?"

As Ashley babbled on and on, asking question after question, Jack noticed the dark haired boy staring at him from the other side of the hall. It wasn't even just a stare, it was a glare, dark and full of loathing. Why? Jack had no idea. But hey, he'd already given up on Americans by now.

And just like that, Sean McLoughlin answered all the questions he was asked, pulling on the mask that was already made for him and playing the part that people expected of him. And after all, the best actors don't mind if they have to play the villain instead of the hero.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A) So sorry this is so damn long  
> B) Look! I actually made it less sad! (i think)  
> C) I know this is a bit of a filler but i hope you enjoyed it all the same :)  
> D) I didn't have time to edit this so if there are mistakes feel free to tell me


	8. The Intoxiating Matter of Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark's pissed af
> 
> ...yup that's all I got xP

Mark P.O.V

Mark was pissed.

His day had been going perfectly fine until he noticed that new kid, Sean or whatever, talking to Ashley and her friend in the middle of gym class.

Not just any Ashley. _His_ Ashley.

Okay, so she certainly wasn't his. He could barely pluck up the courage to have a proper conversation with her, never mind finally ask her out. But still, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy flow through him as he watched her smile brightly at the other boy. She never smiled like that for Mark.

Well, thinking about it, Mark had never really spent enough time with her to understand what made her smile. What made her laugh? He wondered. What did Sean just say to her that made her eyes shine like that?

Then Ashley walked over to Sean, her face inches away from his. Mark felt a flare of anger spark in his chest, adrenaline shooting through his body. How dare he? Who the fuck did he think he was?

This stupid Irish prick couldn't just walk in here and start flirting with Ashley like he had some sort of right to be there. Mark was currently storming through school, looking for his locker, the bitter thoughts filling his brain the more he let his mind linger on the image of Ashley leaning into the green haired boy, far too close.

And then, on top of that, the green haired brat randomly burst out laughing. Hearing his laughter was weirdly nice. For some reason Mark couldn't help but stare at the Irishman as he let out round after round of obnoxiously loud laughter; there was just something about the other boy that captivated Mark's attention, and no matter how much he wanted to look away, he couldn't tear his gaze away.

The green haired boy was half hunched in his laughter, his eyes crinkling at the edges and his body shaking with barely withheld chuckles. He just looked so at peace. So different to what he normally looked like; all smug and brooding, like he knew something you didn't.

Mark was caught up in the flood of other students who were trying to escape school, rushing to their lockers and out the door in a tsunami of pushing bodies and rock hard book bags. The half Korean ducked to the side, hugging the wall so as not to be sucked back into the chaos that once was the school corridors. He pulled out Jack's note, reading it again.

It didn't really specify any particular time. If he turned up now would he be too early? If he went home and then came back would he be too late? After a few seconds more of being crushed against the painted bricks by other kids he decided safe was better than sorry and set off down a now deserted corridor towards the school's football field with Jack's bag in one hand and his little note in the other.

***

Mark wasn't really a sports fan. He had only visited the school's football field twice before and both occasions he was dressed in his crappy gym kit 'experiencing something new' with boys nearly three times the size of him. Needless to say, both experiences had been absolutely horrendous and he had no intention to try the goddamn game again.

He knew that his dad was disappointed when he came home the second time, covered in mud and bruises, half dead from exhaustion and declaring his hatred for the sport. He knew his dad loved the beloved game and desperately wanted Mark to love it too. Luckily Carrie was the athlete in their family, taking the pressure off Mark.

Anyway, here he was, trekking across the wide expanse of green grass and white lines towards the raised white bleachers at the other side. As he walked he could see the silhouette of another boy, sitting cross legged on the ground. Mark narrowed his eyes in an attempt to see the boy's face clearly; perhaps he'd seen him around school before, but the shadows clouded the boy's features too much for him to make anything out as he walked closer.

He watched as the silhouette looked up and stood, brushing the dust off his pants. Then Mark began to recognize certain things about the other boy the closer he got to him.

The frame was lean, bordering on skinny and clad in jeans and a wispy dark colored shirt. He was casually leaning against the metal structure that held the bleachers up, arms crossed as he waited patiently. His hair was dyed a bright artificial green and a smirk tugged at the side of his lips like something he saw in Mark somehow amused him to no end. Finally Mark came close enough to see the sharp intelligence glinting in the bright blue eye that wasn't half swollen shut.

It was the last person he wanted to see. What the fuck was he doing here?

Sean McLoughlin was still grinning his ass off and it just made Mark angry, stoking the jealousy that already filled his stomach. He was already drunk on the feeling.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?" He bit out, a quiet voice in the back of his head whispering that this was ok, because obviously he deserved it, right? He shouldn't have talked to Ashley like that, he shouldn't be allowed to do in less than half an hour what Mark couldn't do in nearly 3 years. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

The Irishman didn't even have the decency to look phased by the comment, in fact his face stayed completely calm, which only made Mark angrier. Especially when he opened his mouth.

"You."

Mark glared at him. "What?"

Sean shrugged nonchalantly, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I don't know. There's just something about someone getting as angry as you do over nothing, it amuses me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mark asked, confusion flitting across his face for a second before his anger returned so forcefully that he took several steps forward into the Irishman's personal space.

What was he doing? A tiny voice asked in the back of his head. What was wrong with him?

Still he shoved that voice down.

Sean laughed humorlessly at the other boy, laying his good hand on Mark's chest to push him away. "Don't you worry, tough guy. I'm not interested in your shallow, self centered girlfriend, even though she seems more than interested in me."

Mark's anger sparked, grabbing the other by his shirt and pulling him closer, but something felt wrong. What was he doing? This wasn't him.

"Don't you talk about her that way." He growled through clenched teeth before adding. "And she's not my girlfriend."

Sean's face suddenly split into a wide smile despite the position Mark currently had him in. "What? Has the jock got himself a little crush?" The Irishman let out a snort. "Well, I'm sorry for being so much hotter than you. It comes naturally to me I guess, being Irish and all. It's in my bones."

Mark let out a low curse, holding his fist in the air for a second before thinking better of it and instead shoving the smaller boy away from him, rough enough that he stumbled back and, due to his arm being in a sling, unbalanced, landing on the ground with a huff of air leaving his lungs. Mark stared for a second before scooping up Jack's bag again which he couldn't even remember setting down, and began walking away from the situation.

"Hey! Where the fuck do you think you're going? You've still got my bag!" Sean's voice yelled at his back, making him freeze.

Slowly Mark turned, wide eyes looking down at the Irishman who was quietly grumbling to himself as he struggled to stand up with only one hand. "What the fuck is it with people lately? Do I just have 'Punch me' written on my fucking back or something?" The Irishman grumbled. "For fuck's sake has my face just become more punch-able after puberty?"

More colorful curse words flowed off the other boy's tongue and Mark knew that most of them were probably directed towards him even though they were being whispered too low for him to hear. And do you know the best part?

Now all of Mark's anger had dissolved completely leaving a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach, guilt gnawing at his insides and making a claw around his heart. He couldn't even find it in himself to get mad about the insults that were being fired at him because he knew he deserved them.

What the fuck was he thinking?

He moved closer to the green haired boy, only now noticing as he stood how hunched over the other was. As if he were in pain. But soon enough Sean straightened up properly and faced Mark, looking him squarely in the eyes.

Mark opened his mouth. "Look, I'm so sorry, I-"

Harsh laughter cut through Mark's apology like a knife. "Please, shut up. I don't want to hear your stupid, pity filled apologies. I don't know how much you know about me, I don't know why you were in my Ma's room, I don't even know your fucking name. All I know is that you're some nosy bastard who couldn't leave things alone." The short green haired boy was obviously working himself into a rage, but before he could really begin screaming he seemed to take a deep breath, looking at the dusty ground for a few beats.

Mark could actually hear him counting to ten.

Sean looked up at him again, daring him to say something before he spoke again. "Just give me my fucking stuff and I'll go. I have somewhere more important to be right now."

He had already snatched his bag from Mark's loose grip and was striding away quickly. Mark didn't know what made him do it, but he shouted at Sean's back. "Jack, wait!"

Sean didn't turn but he did slow in his rapid pace, just a little.

"My name's Mark." He shouted, walking a few paces forward.

Jack looked round, locking eyes with Mark for a second. He nodded, shouting back at the dark haired boy with a subtle threat in his voice. "Well Mark, keep whatever you know about me to yourself. I'd rather not have to kill you." Turned briskly he quickly walked away, Mark watching his green hair disappear into the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you're enjoying this story, I know I'm having a ton of fun writing it xD


	9. The Swedish Carer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack goes to visit his Ma

Jack P.O.V

After his little...episode with Mark, Jack immediately set off towards Sunny Side, the home in which his Ma was currently locked up in. Honestly he didn't really mind the place, it was far better than some of the places his Ma had been shoved into by idiotic councils back in Ireland who thought they knew everything. But still, that didn't mean he liked the place either, he just didn't despise it completely.

Sunny Side did have it's perks. One of which was Felix Kjellberg, the Swedish carer who Jack's Ma absolutely adored. Even though Jack had only been in America for a few weeks he had stayed in his Ma's room, sitting beside her bed and just talking, every single day. Sometimes he would stay for the entire day, telling her little stories he knew she would have forgotten by the next day, and others she couldn't physically keep herself awake any longer than ten minutes but Jack would be by her bed anyway. Watching over her like she had done for him as a child.

Through this schedule Jack grew closer to Felix who, by the third day, gave up on trying to shoo Jack out of the room when visiting hours were over and instead sat beside him and talking to him for a bit about video games which they both had a passion for.

Today Jack guessed that Felix must be having his lunch late because when he walked into his Ma's room she was alone, flicking through one of her many magazines, her eyes lingering on the bright pictures. Jack knew that she found it too frustrating to focus on reading the actual words these days, now she was like a child who leafed through a book just to look at the illustrations between the writing.

When she heard the door click shut she looked up, her face splitting into her familiar smile as soon as she saw him. "Hello!" She chirped happily before adverting her eyes back to the pages.

Jack could tell she was having one of her good days. On these days she was more aware of her surroundings and normally could form a decent understanding of anything being said to her. Jack loved to spend these days just talking to her because it was like nothing had changed. She was still his Ma, deep down where the sickness hadn't reached, she was still the person she used to be. She just couldn't remember who that was sometimes.

He sat in his normal chair beside her, the light from the window shining into the room and illuminating her joyful expression. He let a small smile grow on his lips. "Hey Ma. How're you feeling today?"

She didn't remove her eyes from the magazine but after a few seconds she did answer, her voice stronger than he had heard in a long time, the homely accent comforting to hear. "Good. The doctor says I'm sick, though. So I can't leave yet."

The green haired boy nodded at the answer. His Ma easily got confused these days, muddled at the complexity of the world. She had been known to slip completely into hallucinations at a moments notice and she could become frustrated when she couldn't remember things she thought she should. It broke Jack's heart to see her like that, so angry at herself when it wasn't her fault in any way shape or form.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come yesterday, Ma. I was a bit clumsy and-" Jack began but suddenly his Ma cut him off.

"You were here. I told them you would and you came." She said insistently.

Jack held back a sigh, ignoring the statement and instead stood up out of his old brown seat and moved over to his Ma's locker where he'd left his packet of skittles to brighten the dull room up a little. Grabbing a handful of the sweets he grinned happily at his Ma.

"Have I told you about my new school yet, Ma?" He asked, a genuine smile gracing his features.

She shook her head from side to side, throwing her magazine down onto the floor, curling up in her bed eager for a new story.

So he sat down in his chair, ready to begin when the door opened quietly behind them and in walked Felix. Jack almost laughed at the half eaten sandwich still in his hand, the rest obviously stuffed in his mouth.

"Hi Jack." Felix said. Well, that's probably what he meant to say, but with his mouth full of food it came out as more of a "Ai yack" than anything else. Jack gave the carer a smile. "Hey Felix, how's it going?"

The blonde haired man swallowed his mouthful before returning the grin, moving around the bed to check Jack's Ma's chart for today. "Good, thanks. What about you?" His eyes raked over the younger boy's swollen eye and bandaged arm. "By the looks of it you got into a fight with John Cena."

Jack grinned. "Yeah I can't argue with that."

"I was getting worried, good job your sister called in or I might've actually gone out looking for you." Felix chuckled quietly, smiling down at Jack's Ma as he carefully took her magazine away, in favor of trying to convince her to swallow her pills. "How are you feeling today, Samantha?"

Jack's Ma looked up at the young man with adoration in her wide eyes. "I'm really great!" She giggled, a ginormous smile stretching across her face, making Felix laugh lightly.

The green haired Irishman tilted his head a little. "Why do you always use her full name? I don't remember anyone back home even bothering to learn her proper name, they just called her Sam."

Felix shrugged a little as he checked things off a small list attached to the bed. "Well, for someone in her condition it's best for her to hear things like her own name or her family's names on a regular basis. Of course I don't always call her that, mostly it's Sam, but sometimes it's just a little reminder to her."

Jack nodded, storing the information away for later use. This was something Felix had been extremely useful for over the past few days. Jack wanted to learn more about his mother's condition so he could help her more. He wanted to be able to understand what was happening and why it was happening. A few years back he knew next to nothing about the situation and everything about it scared him half to death, but now he was on the right track to being able to help his Ma rather than hinder those who actually could by panicking like a total idiot.

"Felix?" Jack's Ma said quietly, looking up at the blonde.

"Yes?" Felix replied, giving the dark haired woman a charming smile.

"Why has nobody come to visit me today? Is Jack okay? Is he sick?" She asked, an undertone of panic in her voice that Jack was all too familiar with. Her words were like a stone settling in his stomach.

Even on her good days his Ma couldn't concentrate on too many things at once and sometimes, out of nowhere, her brain tried to reduce the amount of stress it was under; therefore sometimes she could forget minutes, hours or whole days at a time without any warning. He couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. He thought she was getting better lately, he thought he might actually get her back home for the holidays even.

Apparently he thought wrong.

Felix made no visible reaction to the questions but instead answered in a calm voice while gesturing carefully to Jack to go out for a second. "I don't know, Sam. I don't think Jack's sick, though. I'm sure he's just running a bit late."

Jack left the room, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could. The last thing he wanted was to make his Ma upset because she'd mixed up again. He couldn't do that to her.

A few seconds later Felix came out into the horrendously decorated corridor, letting out a sigh and giving Jack a sad smile. "You okay?"

The green haired boy gave the older man a nod. "Yeah, don't worry I'm good."

Felix ran a hand through his hair, his eyes full of pity and Jack tried not to become frustrated at the look. He knew Felix just wanted to help, but holy shit that look made Jack feel so weak and fragile that he had to look away, focusing more on the carpet than the man in front of him.

"Just so you know, your mom had a really bad day yesterday, unresponsive to staff and suffered both hallucinations and delusions. I'm afraid we had to sedate her again, just for her own safety. It's funny actually, I was standing right here yesterday trying to calm that friend of yours down. He was with her when it happened, scared the living crap outta him." Felix commented, carefully watching Jack's face as he stood in the middle of the currently empty corridor, thinking. "Who was the guy anyway? I didn't know you had many friends around here."

Jack leaned casually against the wall, digging his hands into his pockets. There was only one person that could've been in his Ma's room that Felix didn't know. "His name's Mark, I met him at school."

Felix nodded, a smile crawling onto his face. "Did he tell you how glad I was that you finally took my advice and took a break from all of this?"

The Irishman shook his head, his mind whirling. So Mark obviously came into his Ma's room yesterday. But why? What was he doing here? And most importantly, what the fuck was he taking Jack's bag for?

"Well, I'm proud of you man, you've made a friend your own age and you might actually make a life of your own here if you stop picking fights with John Cena or whatever you did to get that black eye. I'm glad you've actually got a life outside of all this." The Swedish man chuckled.

Jack laughed alongside him, mental sighing in relief. Thank god Felix was going to let up on trying to convince him to take a day off. Of course he knew his Ma would be fine but the idea of leaving her alone chilled him to the bone. Even going to school made his stomach twist painfully with guilt because he shouldn't be so selfish. He should be here, with her, where he belonged.

"Do ya'know what? I think you should bring that friend of yours back here again. When I walked in Sam was in one of her states but I was talking to my friend Hannah this morning and she said he must've been in there for a good half hour at least. I think it would be good for her to see a new face visit her instead of just you or me." The blonde said quietly with a bright smile.

Jack's eyebrows furrowed as he thought about what he just heard.

Why did Mark stick around? He had no reason to after all, Jack's Ma was a complete stranger to him, not only a complete stranger but a mentally ill stranger at that. What on earth made him decide to stay and talk to her, what did he want? Why was he so interested in Jack's life all of a sudden?

It wasn't as if the green haired boy wanted the attention. Plus, Mark seemed to be reasonably popular in school, he had his own friends and a good social status. He had his eye on a pretty girl he wanted to impress and he was reasonably handsome himself. Obviously someone who would go far in life. So why would he risk it all on talking to Jack, a foreign loner who had no friends and barely spoke. Jack couldn't understand the way Mark's brain worked. How stupid do you have to be to even consider that?

Most people were predictable, petty and ignorant to the things going on in the lives of everyone around them unless it was a scandal that could be spread as juicy gossip for popularity. Mark, however, cared way to much for Jack's personal comfort. He'd seen far too much. Jack felt incredibly exposed at the thought of some random kid knowing about his Ma, talking to her, watching her have one of her fits and babble nonsense.

Jack shivered at the image of his Ma, so fragile and vulnerable, through the eyes of a stranger. If Mark didn't keep his gob shut the information would spread like wildfire. These people who knew nothing about the situation he was in, students who had no idea what he's gone through would make presumptions about him, his family, his life.

Suddenly Jack was snapped out of his thoughts when an elderly lady effectively gave him a harsh shove out of the way with her walking stick, making him let out a ridiculously loud yelp.

She gave him a dark glare, one wrinkled hand coming up to brush a strand of silver hair away from her face. "Young hooligans like you shouldn't be allowed in here. You're causing nothing but disruption, standing there in the middle of the corridor like you have a right to be here." She spat before limping down the corridor.

Jack looked at Felix, mouth slightly agape which made the blonde chuckle quietly. "Don't worry about Ann, she's just been bitter since her nephew missed a visit. She's a nice old lady really."

Jack slowly nodded, watching the hunched old woman disappear around the corner. "Yeah...I'm sure she's just charming."

The Swedish man let out a laugh. "Okay Jack, I had better go, it's dinner time after all. Do you want to go back in to your mom? I'm know she'd love you to stay."

Jack smiled, sadness bleeding into the happy expression no matter how hard he tried to fight it. "Sure. I should probably go in and say hi. I'll see you Felix."

"Bye bro." The blonde said grinning before turning and walking in the same direction Ann had been heading.

Jack took a deep breath, preparing himself, before he walked into his Ma's room again, a big smile fastened on his face. 

"Hey Ma. How're you feeling today?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be able to update all of next week and seeing as I have tests coming up I don't think I'll be able to update regularly for the next week or so after that. Sorry! 
> 
> Hopefully after all my exams r over I'll be able to get back to my normal schedule again :P 
> 
> I really hope you're enjoying this story and thankyou so much to anyone who's left kudos or comments or bookmarked this story, you're all awesome :)


	10. The Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm far too tired to think up a decent summary but here we go,  
> Mark & Jack actually talk for once and Mark wants bacon
> 
> so sorry if this sucks btw, I'm like two minutes from falling asleep xD

Mark P.O.V

Mark woke up early on Wednesday morning to the sound of his mother's voices echoing up the stairs.

"Mark! Get up right now!"

The teen rolled over in bed, the soft and warm cocoon of his blankets inviting him to close his eyes and fall back into sleep. His eyes lids were weighed down with exhaustion and he nearly jumped a foot in the air when a loud knock sounded at his door. "Mark? Are you awake?" His mother barked from the other side of the door.

"Yeah." He groaned, sitting at the side of his bed, shivering as the cool air of his bedroom hit his bare skin. Sleeping in just boxers and a t-shirt might be comfortable, but fuck was he regretting it right now.

Rubbing his eyes sleepily he dragged himself around his messy room, picking up random items of clothing and pulling them on without paying any attention to whatever violations against fashion he was currently making. Eventually he dragged his sluggish body across the hall and into the family bathroom, splashing cool water on his face to wake his exhausted body up a little quicker.

He hadn't slept well last night and it showed when he looked in the mirror. His eyes had pale purple circles under them and his dark hair stuck up in every conceivable direction. Nightmares had haunted his dreams, twisting them into things he didn't want to see, didn't want to hear and didn't want to believe.

He saw his parents looking down at him with disapproval and telling him what a failure he was, he saw his friends looking at him with nothing but disgust and he saw Ashley glaring at him with pure, uncontrollable loathing. But then the dream changed and he was back standing beside Samantha's bed except this time it wasn't just him and the dark haired woman in the room. No, this time Sean, or should he say Jack, was sitting beside her, looking down at her with a broken expression that made Mark's heart break in two.

Samantha wasn't moving. She lay far too still on the bed, her hair surrounding her head on the pillow behind her like some sort of halo. Her pale skin practically blended into the white of her bed and her almost skeletal features made it look like she hadn't eaten in weeks, her cheeks hollow and her eyes sunken.

She looked dead.

Then her eyes snapped open. Suddenly she was moving, fighting against some unseen force just like she had done before in real life, her eyes filled with terror and her voice breaking on panicked screams for help. Jack was standing now, shouting at him to do something, help her, save her and Mark felt the overwhelming feeling of uselessness filling his entire being. He couldn't move, and even if he could, he couldn't help.

The sounds became louder, ripping into him again and again. There was nothing he could do to make it stop. No doctor was coming in to help him, make the noise stop, make the screaming stop. He couldn't close his eyes, he couldn't cover his ears and he couldn't move a muscle.

It felt like hours of torture before he finally woke up at nearly 5am, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. He knew without looking that he was crying, he could feel the tears slowly falling in a steady stream without his consent. The crippling sense of helplessness he had felt in his nightmare fell on him like a ton of bricks, images rushing through his head in a blur. Eventually he fell asleep again from nothing but pure exhaustion, his sleep dream free for the rest of the night.

Now he could see the tear tracks that had dried on his cheeks and he felt nothing but that strange emptiness he felt after he had witnessed Samantha's attack in real life as he washed them off. Another yell sounded from the kitchen. "I swear to god Mark if you're late for the bus again you'll be walking!"

After making a quick job of his teeth and a spray of deodorant Mark thundered down the stairs to the kitchen where he prayed his mother was making eggs and bacon.

***

"Why the fuck should I care if the little shit thinks eating meat is wrong? I don't care! I should be allowed to eat whatever I like. I'm old enough to say that stuff, right?" Mark ranted to Wade in the middle of their English class, his hands gesturing wildly to emphasis his point.

His best friend chuckled quietly. "Yeah, sure you are. I still can't imagine you eating granola for your breakfast though, that's just hilarious."

Mark slapped the table lightly with his palm. "My point exactly! I can't live off fucking rabbit food for the rest of my life."

Wade let out a laugh which he quickly muffled with his hand, completely ignoring the essay they were supposed to be working on. "Whatever you say. If it annoys you that much then just buy your own food like an adult."

Mark snorted quietly. "Yeah, like I have any money to spend. If I did I wouldn't be living at home still. God I need a job, man, I'm broke."

Wade opened his mouth to speak but at that moment the bell rang signifying the end of their first class. They had separate classes next, Mark was stuck in math whereas Wade was heading over to history.

"I'll see you at lunch." The shorter of the two grumbled good naturedly. "And while I'm there I'm gonna eat all the meat the goddamn canteen has to offer."

Wade rolled his eyes at his friend before giving him a wave and walking down the corridor towards his next class yelling jokingly behind him. "Embrace the meaty goodness!"

Mark snorted, letting out a quiet sigh as he turned in the opposite direction. He fucking hates math.

***

The warm sound of cheerful chatter flowed around the classroom as Mark too his seat near the back of the room. Unpacking his books he let his mind wander over the last two days. Had it been only two days? It felt like so much longer. This week was dragging on far too long.

Then he noticed Sean, ugh...Jack, walk into the room, his sling a little dirtier than yesterday and his face set in a determined expression. Mark felt his eyebrows raise to meet his hairline as the green haired boy sat in the seat next to him without any form of hesitation.

An awkward silence followed that Mark was far too nervous to break. He shifted in his seat, playing with the sleeves of his jacket out of habit. He could feel the other boy's eyes watching him, the piercing blue cutting into him like a knife.

Eventually Jack broke the silence.

"Hey Mark." He said quietly and calmly.

Mark finally looked him in the eyes, surprised at how direct and steady that gaze was. "Hey."

After a few more seconds of prolonged silence during which they both tried to bring up something to talk about, Mark opened his mouth again. "What do you want?" He asked quietly.

The Irishman was quiet for a few seconds more before answering. "I just wanted to say thanks for getting Felix off my back. I swear he was a few steps away from banning me from visiting."

Mark looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Felix? Isn't that the blonde dude who gives your mom her pills or something?"

Jack nodded, eyes fixed on the table in front of him. "Yeah that's him. He's a good guy, told me that my ma had a fit while you were with her yesterday. You ok?"

The dark haired boy couldn't help but be surprised and the concern in the other boy's voice. His mind flashed back to the dream he had last night and he shivered at the memory. The entire situation just seemed so unfair. Maybe Jack deserved to get drunk when he was only 18. Mark honestly couldn't blame him for it.

He looked the Irishman in the eyes, startled at the expression of understanding on his face which only made the American's stomach twist in embarrassment. If he was stuck in Jack's position he probably would've melted into a puddle of mush by now with the emotional strain alone. He couldn't possibly imagine how it felt to have a mother so mentally ill that she could actually think that a complete stranger was her son.

"I'm fine. It was just a bit of a shock to see something like that." Mark replied before quietly adding. "I don't know how you stick it, Jack."

The green haired boy shrugged. "It's just my life. Shit like that scares the crap outta people who aren't used to seeing it. I'm guessing you're one of them, huh?"

Shrugging a little the half-Korean answered in such a low whisper that Jack had to move closer to hear him properly, the words full of something close to shame. "I might be."

Suddenly he heard a small chuckle from the boy beside him. "Be glad of that and pray that it stays that way." Jack said, his Irish accent becoming a little more pronounced when he whispered.

Mark hid is face in his hands as another silence stretched out between them, but this time it wasn't awkward at all, instead it held a mutual understanding, like they were both on the same page. Then Jack spoke again. "Hey Mark, what was the name of that girl you like again?"

Mark warily took his head out of his hands, tenseness bleeding into his body like he was preparing for a fight. "Her name's Ashley. Why?"

Jack let out a quiet laugh before bringing his hand down on Mark's shoulder, making him jump at the touch. "No need to worry, Godzilla. I was just gonna suggest that, seeing as Ashley seems to want to hang around with me, I could put in a good word for you."

Mark's jaw practically hit the floor. "W-what? You'd do that for me?"

The Irishman let a smirk play on his lips. "Of course. But only if I you'll come with me to visit my ma again. According to Felix it would help her more to have a bigger variety of people visiting than just me and him and seeing as you're the only person in this school who knows about her. I'd like to keep it that way. So, do we have a deal?"

Mark bit his lip as he thought through his options.

This was his chance. If Jack gave him a good word to Ashley then he might have a chance to actually _talk_ to her. He could get the girl he had been crushing on for 3 years of his life to talk to him in a way that wasn't just a short exchange of hellos in the corridor.

But on the other hand, he would have to go back _there_.

Mark felt a shiver shake his body at the thought of going back into that room with that woman. Frankly he was terrified of the same thing happening again, the screaming, the thrashing of limbs and the shouts of doctors before everything became too quiet and silence smothered the room like a blanket. He wasn't sure if he could do it.

Mark could feel Jack's blue eyed gaze burning his skin, waiting for his answer.

"She's not always like that, you know." Jack said softly. "You just saw her on a bad day. I promise if she's having a bad day when we arrive you don't have to go in. I get it."

Slowly Mark nodded, eyes finally coming up to meet Jack's for reassurance. "Okay. I'll do it."

Jack gave him a small smile before ripping a piece of paper out of a notebook on the desk and writing something on it. "Here, this is my number. I'll call you whenever Felix tells me that ma's having a good day, alright?"

Mark nodded again, wondering what the hell he just got himself into as he quickly slid the note into his pocket. At that moment Mrs Adams hobbled into the classroom and Mark couldn't help but let out a sigh.

"Silence!" She barked, the wrinkles on her forehead doing the Mexican wave as she spoke. "Open your books at page 423."

Ah Mark had almost forgotten that he had math now.

The worst thing ever invented.

Taught by the grumpiest old woman to ever live.

Oh _joy_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I'm dying of a cold  
> i'l hopefully get another chapter out next week if i'm not still dying then xP
> 
> I shall now go sleep for all eternity  
> BYEEEEEEEEEEEE!!


	11. The One in the Black Shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason is a prick (as per usual) and Jack talks to Ashley

Jack P.O.V

It's one thing to be beaten into a bloody pulp by your big sister's boyfriend. Jack could handle the physical beating, like sure it hurt like a bitch and landed him in hospital, but at least the pain could be taken away with painkillers and, on the very rare occasion, alcohol.

One thing Jack certainly couldn't handle was being stuck sitting around the dinner table and making friendly conversation with said boyfriend while his sister listened with a warm smile on her face at how they were getting along.

It just felt like he'd been kicked down and now this bastard was rubbing the dirt in his face.

"So Jack, how was school?" Jason had asked, his features holding none of the rage they had the night before, instead a polite curiosity that made Jack's blood boil.

"Good." Jack answered shortly, hoping to finish his food and leave as soon as possible. He couldn't stand this.

The blond nodded, his expression becoming fixed like his lips had been pinned into the thin smile they held. Then all of a sudden he spoke again. "What happened that arm of yours, Jackaboy?" He asked slyly, his eyes narrowed and waiting for the boy's response.

Jack could see the challenge there, daring him to tell the truth, but one glance at his sister immediately made him banish even the thought.

Megan's blue eyes weren't looking at her brother, instead they were fixed on Jason, wide as the dinner plates they were eating off and full of love and adoration for the blonde. If Jack wasn't careful he might be sick.

He knew that he couldn't tell anyone what really happened. Megan was happy for the first time in years and if she ended up getting sick again just because he couldn't take a little bit of a hit he would never forgive himself. She'd fought tooth and nail to get everything she had today, she had worked hard enough to buy her own apartment, let her boyfriend move in, start a brand new life, and when Jack was in trouble she helped him when no one else would.

How could he take all that away from her? It would be so selfish.

"I just fell down the stairs, no need to worry." Jack said in a voice faker than Jason's following expression of sympathy.

"Ouch! That must've hurt!" He winced making Jack's fists clench and then release as he tried to fight his anger down.

Suddenly Megan's light laughter filled the room. "Oh my god, Jack! You're such a klutz!" She chuckled happily, slapping his good arm playfully. Her accent had died down the longer she stayed in America, by now it was almost none existent, only a tiny lilt in her words showing off her true heritage.

The green haired boy pulled off a smile and a chuckle of his own. Sometimes he considered going into the acting profession, he was getting far too good at this kind of thing for his liking.

"Hey, do you guys want any pudding? I've got cookies." Megan asked, pointing a finger at the tempting plate of sweet treats on the kitchen counter. Jack looked down at his half finished dinner and felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably.

"Nah, I'm alright." He said quietly, standing up from the table and preparing to leave when a large hand grabbed his wrist making him freeze completely in place.

"Where do you think you're going, Champ?" Jason asked, false innocence practically dripping from the words. "Meg's been making this dinner all evening, aren't you gonna say thanks?"

Jack locked eyes with the blonde haired man but by the way his eyes narrowed and the way his hand tightened, leaving what Jack knew would be a bruise the green haired boy knew his defiance was showing. He couldn't even find it in himself to care.

He could feel Meg's eyes resting on them, watching the exchange with curiosity. It would be so easy. Too easy to call Jason out on his bullshit.

But Jack knew he couldn't do that.

So instead he roughly tugged his arm out of the burly man's grip and gave his sister a sharp nod. "Thanks."

And with that he had thundered up the stairs, not reappearing until he was forced to rise for school.

***

Now, however, it was lunchtime and Jack had been kidnapped by Ashley and Hannah when they grabbed him as soon as the mealtime bell rang, the red head chattering excitedly about some movie she'd watched the night before.

"I swear I've never seen such a good actor! He made it look so believable! Trust me you'll never catch me jumping out a window, even if some psycho was chasing me. That's crazy!" She exclaimed, hands flapping around in exaggeration.

Jack let a little smile grow on his lips as he watched her frantic gesturing. It seriously looked like she was caught in a swarm of invisible flies.

As they finally fought their way through the crowd of students to a free table and sat down Jack noticed Mark sitting not far from them, talking with his tall friend about something.

Remembering his promise Jack gave Ashley a nudge with his elbow, effectively cutting off her rant and gaining her full attention. "Hey Ashley, do you have a boyfriend?" He asked casually.

Her eyes widened, mouth dropping open a little. "N-no, of course not. Why?" She asked far too quickly.

Jack looked at her for a second before making the wise decision to ignore the weird reaction and continue with his hopefully subtle manipulating.

"Really? I thought someone like you would have one by now." The green haired boy commented, a look of pure scandal on his face. He gave himself a little mental round of applause. He should definitely go into acting, that was flawless.

"You think so?" Ashley said, shifting a little closer to the boy who raised an eyebrow at the movement.

"...Yeah." He said slowly, not particularly sure what had gone wrong in his little performance. This was not planned. What in the name of god was she doing?

"Well, can you think of anyone up for the job?" The ginger asked in a low voice, moving in even closer as Jack tried to edge back in the smaller than he would like, wooden bench.

"As a matter of fact, yes I can." He said, quickly standing up to somehow drag himself out of the uncomfortable situation. "Do you see that dude over there?"

Turning away he didn't notice how Ashley's face dropped, her eyes full of disappointment. Jack pointed to Mark's table where the man himself was, unhelpfully, pulling ridiculous faces at his friend who was returning them with relish, each face becoming more stupid than the last.

Wow, isn't it just a mystery how Mark was still single.

"Which one?" Ashley asked, her nose wrinkled as she looked at the two boys who had now collapsed in helpless laughter.

"The one in the black shirt."

"With the mismatching socks?"

"That's the one." Jack almost sighed. What the hell was the point?

Ashley looked up at him with a questioning look in her eyes. "Why him?"

The green haired boy nearly panicked, he hadn't even prepared for this question. God was he dumb.  
Shrugging nonchalantly he grasped for something to say that wouldn't sound completely unbelievable. "He's a nice guy, not bad looking and he's got a great sense of humor. One of the first people to talk to me when I arrived here actually, you should really give him a shot. I think you two would get along really well."

The red head bit her lip in thought as she turned to Hannah with a questioning eyebrow. The doe eyed girl shrugged with a look on her face that basically said 'Why the hell not?'

Ashley grinned and stood up beside Jack. "Alright then, lead the way." She chirped cheerfully with a little wink.

Jack couldn't help but let a genuine smile slip onto his face as he felt student's eyes sticking to them like glue and their jaws hit the floor as the group changed tables. Mark's gobsmacked expression as Ashley plonked down beside him was Jack's personal favorite reaction. He seriously looked like the human embodiment of a tomato.

As Jack took his seat opposite the other boy who seemed to be struggling to remember English properly and as soon as they locked eyes the green haired boy couldn't resist the little satisfied smirk that played on his features.

Jack had kept up his end of the bargain. Now Mark just had to keep his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M CURED! I still won't be updating regularly till next week but I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I had a lotta fun writing it :) Also thankyou so much to anyone who's reading my writing i never expected anyone to really like it :D


	12. The Video Game Geek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Mark are actually getting along :o

Mark P.O.V

Everything was going _beyond_ amazing for Mark right now.

Ashley Graham was sitting right next to him. She was talking to him. About actual things. And he was answering her. In an actual conversation.

Holy fuck.

The dark haired half Korean couldn't believe what was happening, the only thing keeping him rooted to reality being the smell of his dream girl's perfume and the little giggle she let out when he made a weak attempt at a joke, the sound making his insides suddenly feel like candyfloss.

The whole time he could feel the icy blue eyes of Sean watching his every move. Mark was shocked that the green haired boy had delivered on his promise at all, with a reputation like the one he had gained in less than 3 days he seemed like the kind of person who would break promises without a second thought. However Mark could safely say he had never been happier to have been proved wrong. He watched as Ashley's green eyes shone with interest as she asked her next question.

"So, what are you into, Mark? Any hobbies?"

He bit his lip, eyebrows creased in thought. Now was his moment to look cool, show off his talents and make himself sound like the best quality of boyfriend material in the area. But his brain was still baffled by the fact he was even talking to this girl and he began to sweat under the pressure of answering. Hobbies? What hobbies? Did he have hobbies? He had no idea. It was like all memory of anything interesting that had happened during his lifetime had just completely disappeared in that very second.

"I- I play video games?" He finally spluttered, nervousness radiating off him in waves. Seriously? Was that all he could think of? Wow, way to make yourself sound cool, Mark. You're such a geek.

The ginger haired girl raised an eyebrow. "Really? What kinda games?"

Mark's brain went into a scramble, immediately erasing any decent game he'd ever played. Goddammit, was this going to become a regular thing?

"I- I like horror games." He finally said, praying he didn't sound half as nervous as he thought he did.

Then another voice joined in the conversation. "Funnily enough I've been drawn into that genre myself lately." An accented voice commented offhandedly, his tone almost bored and a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Mark couldn't tell if he should be happy about the green haired boy stepping into the conversation or not. On one hand he had essentially just saved the half Korean from even more forced and stiff conversation but on the other hand, Ashley was his girl, and if he really wasn't interested in her then what the hell was Jack playing at?

The red headed girl grinned openly at the other boy, a look that made Mark's stomach fill with jealousy which he tried to push down despite the powerful urge he had to snap at the Irishman to mind his own business.

"Oh my god, really? I never took you for a gamer, Sean." She said in her lovely singsong voice.

The green haired boy shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah well, there's allot you don't know about me." His blue eyes then fixed on Mark. "So what game are you playing right now?" He asked, taking a drink from one of the cafeteria's shitty plastic cups.

Mark narrowed his eyes a little at the other boy. "Right now it's just whatever I can find, there's not many good ones out at the moment."

Jack snorted. "I can't argue with you there." He agreed and Mark couldn't help but let a small smile crawl onto his face as he warmed up to the new topic.

"It kinda sucks actually, the last decent horror game I played was Five Nights At Freddy's and I haven't found anything really good since." He sighed.

Jack let out an actual laugh, startling the other boy with the sound. "That game was a lot of fun I've gotta admit."

"Have either of you boys played Rocket League before?" Ashley asked, a questioning eyebrow raised.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Please, I'm amazing at that game."

At the exact same time Mark let out a low groan. "I fucking suck at that game."

The two looked at each other for a second before Jack cracked a smile and they both burst into laughter while Ashley watched them with a fond look on her face.

When the two finally calmed down Jack opened his mouth to speak. "You know, if you wan-"

The bell signalling the end of lunch rang making Mark jump in surprise.

When he looked back at the shorter boy it was to see him shaking his head, features forming a thoughtful expression. He almost looked pissed.

"Are you ok?" Mark found himself asking quietly.

Jack quickly nodded. "Yeah, I'll see you around, Mark."

And with that the teenager strode out of the canteen before Mark could respond. As he turned around to watch Jack's back as he walked away Mark felt someone poke him in the chest. Facing forwards again he was startled to see Ashley standing there, a little too close for him to breath properly.

The red head beamed happily up at him. "Hey Mark, I think you're really cute. Do you wanna go out sometime?" She asked, still smiling at him in a way that made him feel like he was the only person on earth she would ask.

Had they not been in the middle of the still half full canteen Mark was pretty sure he could've fainted with happiness.

"Yes!" He blurted out far too quickly before he realized what he just did and continued in what he hoped was a calmer tone. "I mean, yeah sure. Where do you want to go?"

She chuckled quietly at his eagerness and grabbed his hand which made him jump at the unexpected feeling. "Here." She produced a pen and wrote something on the back of his hand while he tried not to hyperventilate at the contact. "There's my number. Can I have yours? I'll give you a call when I have something prepared."

"Y-yeah and are you sure you don't want me to plan the date?" Mark asked cautiously as he took her hand gently in his and wrote his number on her hand.

Ashley shook her head, a small smirk on her face as she pulled her hand away and began walking towards the exit. "No need to worry. I'll sort everything. See you then!"

Mark finally turned to Wade who was currently talking to Ashley's friend with the owlish eyes. He had never been introduced to the small girl but he assumed she had to be a nice person, just like Ashley was.

When he finally realized Wade wasn't leaving anytime soon, Mark walked out of the canteen and set off for his next class feeling like he weighed nothing more than a feather, practically skipping down the corridors in triumph.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hai everyone! I'M ALIVE! I'll be able to update more regularly from now on and btw just incase u haven't noticed this is gonna be a really slow burn story but pls tell me if u think im starting to drag it on a bit xD


	13. The Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashley messages Jack while he's visiting his Ma

Jack P.O.V

(Jack) * **(Ashley)**

Jack was back at Sunny Side, his ma curled up in her blankets snoring softly. By the time he had finally slipped through the door of her room she was already sleeping peacefully, the magazine she had been flicking through lying open on her stomach from when she obviously couldn't keep her eyes open any longer.

He smiled a little as he carefully pulled the magazine from her loose grip and set it on the floor beside her bed before sitting down himself in his little brown chair, patiently waiting for her to wake up after she was done with her nap. Suddenly he felt his phone buzz making him jump in surprise. Who the hell would be messaging him?

**A- Hey! Lucky Charms!**

Well, that was rather rude. Jack didn't particularly care but did that dude, Ethan or something, from class somehow get his number? Because if he did Jack would have no qualms with throwing the damn phone out the window. It wasn't like he used it much anyways.

J- Who is this?

**A- It's just Ashley, dummy :P**

Oh, at least he could now keep his phone, that was a plus he guessed. But wait,

J- How'd you get my number?

**A- I have my ways ;)**

J- Thanks, that really cleared everything up for me.

**A- Glad I could help. Now, did u know it's my 18th b'day 2morrow?**

J- No. Why?

**A- I'm having a massive party at my house. Wanna come?**

Jack paled a little at the thought of another house party. Music pumping and vibrating through his every fiber as he struggled to fight his way through sweaty teenagers who crushed him from every side. The air would be thick with the sharp smell of alcohol, dizzying cigarette smoke and the sickly sweet tang of women's perfume. He knew that's the the way it worked back home anyway. Here, he supposed, people under the age of 21 weren't allowed to drink, things might be different here.

He couldn't say he didn't fancy the idea of getting drunk off his ass. It would help to stop the constant feeling of backbreaking responsibility that weighed him down 24/7 these days. But one look at his mother's sleeping face erased the temptation from his mind.

She looked years younger, the creases that normally lined her face were smooth and her hair fanned out behind her in a fluffy dark mess that made him grin.

He couldn't leave her. Even for a day.

J- No, I can't

**A- Awwwwwww why not????? I'm inviting everyone! C'mon pleaseeeeee!!**

J- No. I don't even know where you live.

**A- That doesn't matter, I'll pick you up! Pleaseeeeeeee!!!!!!**

J- No means no, Ashley.

Jack looked up from his phone to see his Ma was awake, blinking blearily as the sunlight hit her eyelids. He could see she was still a little sleepy, according to Felix she'd had one of her episodes earlier and was trying to sleep it off. But his heart sank when he saw the look in her eyes when they fell on him.

Complete and utter confusion.

"Who are you?" She asked croakily, her voice rough from waking up.

Jack spoke calmly and slowly despite the way his heart fell down to his feet and smashed against the ground, shattering like glass. She could always remember him before, always. No matter what she always at least remembered his face, his name, his brightly colored hair. Never in his life had he ever seen his mother look at him with absolutely no recollection of who he was, and the feeling alone made him want to curl up into a corner and cry.

"I'm your son. Jack."

Her eyebrows creased together in thought before she looked at him again, something akin to anger on her features. "I have no son, who the hell are you? Get out of my room!" Her arm raised in a weak attempt to shoo him away. "Don't come any closer you bastard! What the fuck are you doing here? What do you want from me!?"

She was practically screaming in his face, confusion and fear coming over her face as she looked around the room and at the figure of a stranger who hadn't moved a muscle during her outburst. She began to panic, eyes wide and petrified. "Where am I? This isn't my room. Have you kidnapped me? Please. Don't hurt me!" His Ma's voice broke on her last sentence, her body trembling as she inched away from him in her terrified state.

Jack could feel tears welling up no matter how hard he tried to hold them back. Unconscious of his actions, he stretched out a hand towards his mother and took a step forward. "Ma? Ma, it's me, Jack. I'm your son and I would never ever hurt you." He whimpered through the tears, a hand coming up to cover his mouth as she only moved further away from him, his face a tear stained mask of anguish. "Please, believe me." He pleaded, his voice cracking as the salty tears rolled down his face and dripped onto the tiled floor.

"Help me!" Jack's Ma cried out in what sounded like desperation. "Somebody please help me!"

The door slammed open and Jack could do nothing but shrink into the white wall letting his hands come up to cover his face as he curled into a pathetic sobbing mess and staff swarmed his mother's bed, probably trying to get a decent shot at her with a needle. And as her terrified screams died down the only sound in the room was the broken weeping of Sean McLoughlin. One of the carers carefully pulled the red eyed boy from the floor and let him lean heavily on him before they reached a room made blurry by Jack's uncontrollable tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Jack was whispering on repeat. He didn't know when he'd started doing it and he didn't know when he would stop. He didn't even know what he was sorry for, but it didn't matter, maybe if he said it enough he might be forgiven for being the worst human to ever walk this earth.

Because he should've been able to handle it. That was his job. He wasn't allowed to loose it over something as small as an episode, something he knew she was prone to. Something that shouldn't hurt him anymore. She didn't know what she was saying, her delusions were getting stronger, more real. The sickness in her brain was gaining a tighter hold of her. Why should he be allowed to cry? If anyone should be crying it should be her. Not his stupid ass.

He felt himself being lain gently on something soft and comfortable as hiccups made his body jump every 5 seconds.

"It's all gonna be fine, bro. C'mon deep breaths. Try to copy my breathing, Jackaboy." The carer, Felix, said quietly but firmly, leaving Jack no option but to do as he said and try his best to match his own short, dizzying breaths to the Swedish man's slow and deep inhalations. "That's it, Jack, nice and calm. Keep it going, that's it, brilliant, well done."

Slowly, despite himself, Jack began to calm down. He stopped hyperventilating and the dizziness slowly cleared as oxygen made it's way to his brain, bringing him back to reality.

But no matter how many attempts Felix made to comfort the quivering teen, Jack couldn't help but think about how incredibly not okay everything was going to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man this got so goddamned sad :/ I hope you enjoyed it all the same :)


	14. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark goes to Ashley's party but there's a surprise in store
> 
> (check me out doing a proper chapter summary like I'm suddenly good at this shit xD anyway, I hope you enjoy)

Mark P.O.V **(Ashley)** * _(Mark)_

"Carrie? Carrie! Where the hell did you put my phone?" Mark yelled down the stairs to where he knew his sister was sitting on the couch watching the TV like the potato she was.

He didn't have to wait long for a reply. "I didn't touch your goddamn phone! Stop blaming me just because you always loose your shit."

Mark heard the front door slam and the voice of his mother rang out. "Carrie! Watch your language." Followed by the unmistakable sound of his sister huffing, probably with her arms crossed and her lower lip sticking out like a toddler.

Chuckling quietly to himself Mark crept back into his room and practically turned the place over in search of the device. Eventually he found it, thrown carelessly underneath his bed, intermingled with dirty socks and small mountains of dust that had gathered over the years. Okay, so maybe Mark was a little prone to loosing his things, but that wasn't his fault! Seriously, he just sets the thing down and when he turns around it always magically disappears into thin air.

He was beginning to think their house was home to a ghost. Not quite the violent kind, just that really annoying type that enjoy stealing shit and putting it back in the most awkward places possible, know what I mean? No?

Nevermind.

It wasn't long before the screen of his phone was alight and his fingers artfully danced across it as he checked his messages, surprised to see the notification glinting up at him. Perhaps Wade had got himself locked in the public bathrooms again or maybe Bob finally managed to find that game he'd been after for a while now.

However his theories proved to be incorrect. He didn't recognize the number at all but he still opened the messages, eyes bright with curiosity.

**Hi Mark, it's Ashley here.**

Mark blinked at the screen for a few seconds, the thought of Ashley even having his number was still mindblowing to him, but here she was, messaging him like they'd been friends for years. Wait, was she ready for their date? Already?! Should he reply? He should probably reply. That's how these things work, right?

_Hey Ashley, Mark here._

Even as he pressed send Mark was ready to slam his face into a wall. No shit it was Mark. He was such a socially awkward idiot sometimes.

Suddenly his phone buzzed again making him jump in surprise.

**Lol. Just wanted 2 let u know. My 18th b'day's 2morrow & I'm holding a massive party. Wanna come?**

Mark didn't even think before his fingers were flying across the keys in reply.

_Yeah, sure. What's your address?_

Was that creepy? He hoped he didn't sound creepy. The last thing he wanted was to scare his dream girl away while she was so close, closer than she'd ever been.

But it was only a few seconds before his phone buzzed again, bringing up the address and Ashley's last little comment of,

**See you there ;)**

A sense of pure giddiness washed over the half Korean and excitement took over his body, making him want to whoop in joy.

He couldn't believe how well things were going for him and to be honest, he never wanted it to end.

***

Mark should've known it wouldn't last.

The next day at school their math teacher decided a pop quiz was the best way to figure out who was actually studying. For Mark, who had spent most of the night before quietly having multiple fanboy attacks at the thought of being invited to Ashley's Graham's birthday party, couldn't even remember what they'd talked about in class yesterday nevermind what the hell this shit was.

The quiz put him in a sour mood for the rest of the day and he knew he was being a real dick when he even spotted Wade shooting him offended looks when he thought he wasn't looking. Mark tried his best to cool down after that but his bitter mood began to boil down into excitement as the evening drew closer. He couldn't wait for the up and coming party especially since Wade had been invited.

When Ashley and her friend strutted over to his table in the canteen Mark couldn't help but notice the empty seat where Jack had sat the day before. He wondered what was wrong with him, if his mom was okay.

But those thoughts only lasted a fleeting second before he was drawn into conversation with Ashley, enthralled once more by the pure awe of talking to her while in the background Wade made Ashley's doe eyed friend quietly giggle again and again with his jokes and attitude until the bell signalling the end of lunch rang. As Mark watched Ashley strut out of the canteen he couldn't help but feel a ginormous, hopelessly lovesick smile spread across his face.

***

Fighting through the crowd of sweaty teenagers, music pounding in his ears Mark had never felt more out of place in his entire life.

Wade had disappeared as soon as they walked through the door together, dragged away by Ashley's blue eyed friend and some other strangers Mark had never seen before. In fact, looking around Mark couldn't recognize many of the faces that surrounded him. Some looked well over twenty, kicked back on the black leather sofa with a bottle of alcohol and chatting up anyone who was brave enough to sit beside them.

The house itself was ginormous, Mark's jaw had dropped to the floor when he realized it was the right place, music loud enough to wake up half the neighborhood and crowds of teens in dark rooms illuminated with flashing lights.

He didn't recognize anyone that he passed but he still pulled himself through the crushing walls of students and somehow ending up at a table that probably used to hold refreshments of some description. Now it was scattered with crisps that someone must've knocked over at some point as well as beer bottles both empty and full.

Mark wrinkled his nose at the thought of drinking. It wasn't something that particularly appealed to him and anyway, he didn't want to do something he might regret under the influence of alcohol. He had been here for nearly half an hour now and he hadn't caught sight of Ashley anywhere, maybe he should just grab Wade and go.

Suddenly a hand dropped down on his shoulder and he jumped a little in surprise to find the very person he'd been looking for.

Ashley looked amazing, hair and makeup done to perfection and wearing a tight fitting black dress that left little to the imagination. Mark suddenly felt ridiculously plain in his shirt and jeans, an outfit that he had stressed over being too casual or too formal seeing as he had no idea what to expect from this party.

He noted that she was wearing perfume, a strong scent of flowers smothering the other far less pleasant smells of beer, sweat and cologne. She smiled at him, white teeth flashing in the darkness of the room.

"Hey there Mark, glad you could come." She shouted above the thumping of the music.

He smiled back, desperately trying to look less like a fish out of water and more like the cat who got the cream. "I'm glad to be here! Happy Birthday!" He yelled as loud as he could.

Then he felt a hand slip into his. "C'mon Mark, I wanna get some fresh air, let's go!"

The walk to the front door passed in a blur of shadows and flashing colored lights but it wasn't long before icy air knocked the breath out of Mark as he followed the red haired girl around to the corner of her massive house. Mark furrowed his eyebrows in confusion but kept walking, the wind pulling at his clothes and hair as he went.

Eventually they reached the very back of the tall, white building and through the dark Mark could see a small gathering of people clustered around each other. Mark felt a stab of uncertainty when he noticed the little sparks of light that glinted at the end of things that looked like cigarettes but smelt far _far_ worse.

There was a low hum of conversation between the group which instantly ceased as they got closer, the smell becoming more pungent with an undertone of alcohol, something far stronger than the beer being handed around inside. Mark could practically taste the smoke on his tongue, the thick vapor surrounding him and making him feel lightheaded.

Ashley was still holding his hand in a vice-like grip when they finally reached the group who turned to look at them. Mark could feel the glinting eyes scanning him, judging if he was a threat or not and the feeling made him want to shrink into the shadows and disappear completely. The half Korean could see, even in the dim lighting that all these people couldn't be any younger than 25, each holding their own lighted cigarette in their hand.

One of the men got up from where he'd been lazily slumped on an upside down bucket and began moving towards them. He was dressed in a simple hoodie and worn out jeans but Mark wasn't paying attention to that because he was far too distracted by the man's pure size.

He had an army buzz cut and a calm expression as he towered over Mark, looking down at him like he was a child who had wandered into something only adults should get to see. Not only was he tall but he was well built, muscles tight against his clothes.

Mark had the irresistible urge to run, very far and very fast in the opposite direction.

"Ashley." The man greeted before turning to Mark, scrutinizing his every flaw with beady almost black eyes. "I see you've brought another one of your friends." The man growled, his voice incredibly low and gruff, making Mark sound like a 9 year old girl in comparison.

Mark turned to look at Ashley, her face was set in a bright smile as she looked up at the beast of a man. "I sure did, big bro. I hope you've still got some left for me."

The man let out a low rumbling chuckle. "Of course, couldn't leave you without your fix." As he turned back to the group, probably going to get Ashley her 'fix', Mark began to slowly back away from the scene before Ashley's grip tightened on his hand again.

"Aww Mark where are you going?" She pouted, looking up at him with her big green eyes, glinting in the darkness.

He bit his lip and tried to pull his arm away again. "I- I think I'm gonna go."

Instead of releasing him Ashley moved closer to him, letting her other hand crawl up his arm and rest on his shoulder, massaging it gently. "C'mon Mark, you only just got here. Plus, you seem really tense." Reaching over to an overturned crate she grabbed a bottle of something and held it out to him with a winning smile on her face. "This should help loosen those shoulders." She whispered, close to his ear making him shiver.

Mark took a step back from the bottle being offered. "I- I don't drink, Ashley." He felt so bad when her happy expression crumbled, he almost wanted to take the bottle and down it just to make her smile again. But he wouldn't. He couldn't.

"Hey! Birthday Girl!" A voice yelled from behind them. A voice with a very distinctive accent that belonged to a person with very distinctive bright green hair.

Ashley looked round and her face split into a grin again. "Hey Sean, I was wondering where you'd got to."

Jack was walking towards them, a bottle of something in his hand which he waved around enthusiastically, liquid sloshing out of the top. "I went to go get a drink!" He giggled. Sean McLoughlin actually _giggled_.

Mark watched in complete shock as Jack practically skipped over to them, a wide grin on his face as he brought his drink to his lips and took a large gulp before letting it down again with a wince. It took him a few seconds to even recognize Mark but when he did he slapped him on the shoulder.

"Lookin' a little strained there, Mark." He chuckled.

"Ashley, your order's ready." Came a shout from the man mountain making Ashley excitedly bounce up and down and grabbing Mark's hand again. "C'mon Mark, wanna get fucked up?"

Mark could feel panic building up in him as the pressure of Ashley's emerald gaze weighed down on him like a ton of bricks. Oh god he wanted to say yes. He wanted to say yes so goddamned badly. Anything to impress her, make her eyes light up and a smile grace her lips.

Why wasn't he saying yes, again?

"I- No. I don't-" He began but Ashley had disappeared, releasing him and running over to the man mountain to pick up her 'order'.

He noticed that most of the group was ignoring them completely, caught up in their own conversations and their own little worlds. When Ashley returned she had a freshly rolled joint in her hand and a lighter in the other, swiftly lighting the stick and placing it between her lips.

After a long draft she blew the smoke out slowly with a quiet groan of relief. "Oh my god I needed that." She murmured with a little giggle. "This is some good shit." She continued, openly chuckling as she took another drag and let the smoke curl from her lips.

Jack snorted at her before turning back to Mark. He was standing so close Mark could make out his eyes in the darkness, pupils smothered by the icy blue. "You sure you don't want any, Mark?" He asked quietly.

Mark nodded slowly, his heart breaking at the disappointed look on Ashley's face when he looked at her.

"Why the fuck did you even come if you were just gonna be such a pussy, Mark?" She asked harshly, and Mark felt the words cut into him like a knife. "It's just some weed, it won't kill you if you just try it." She continued, casually blowing out a puff of smoke.

"Look, I'm sorry I just-" He began but she just rolled her eyes.

"Oh my god why can't you just take the fucking risk. If I'd known you were gonna be so fucking boring I would've just asked Sean out instead." The red head spat. "He's way hotter than you anyway."

Mark's heart broke into two. Fuck, she was right. Why couldn't he just take a risk for once in his life?

Jack was so out of it he didn't even seem to hear what the red head had said but he certainly snapped out of it when Ashley placed her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

Mark's stomach lurched at the sight and he seriously felt like he was going to throw up right there and then. Jack was surprised by the action and the kiss ended up being messy and clumsy but that didn't stop the horrible nausea make Mark's stomach churn. Quiet cheers and whoops could be heard coming from the group of druggies but Mark could barely hear them over the sound of his own blood rushing through his ears. He could feel his blood boil and he wanted to tear his eyes away from the sight but for some reason he couldn't. He was like a rabbit caught in headlights.

Every second that the two stayed connected felt like an eternity of pure torture. Finally they broke apart and Ashley had a massive smile on her face as she looked at Jack, having apparently completely forgotten that Mark was even there. Jack however didn't have the same problem, instead he was slowly staggering back, a look of doped up confusion on his face, looking at Mark with complete and utter bewilderment.

Mark felt horribly betrayed by the green haired boy. He especially hated the way he could look at him with such innocence after committing such an atrocious crime.

Ashley moved towards Jack again, aiming for another kiss but the boy gently pushed her away which made her whine quietly.

"Please Sean. I've wanted to do this for _ages_." She pleaded, taking a step closer.

One look at Jack's face clearly showed how he felt about that. He'd gone pale, a low groan escaping his lips. "I don't feel so good." He moaned, a hand placed on his stomach.

Mark watched as the shorter boy doubled over and vomited onto the ground. Ashley took multiple steps away from the Irishman, a look of disgust on her face, but Mark moved towards him because no matter how much he disliked the other boy he still was in no state to get himself home safe. Jack slumped against him so he was practically holding the green haired boy up.

Suddenly the night air was pierced with the faint sound of sirens screeching in the distance.

The group behind the two immediately sprang to life. "Cops! Go, go, go!" Someone yelled. Mark's eyes widened in panic as the others practically sprinted the opposite direction. He knew he wasn't going anywhere with Jack weighing him down like a rock but he couldn't just leave him like this.

The sirens got closer and closer and Mark tried his best to heave Sean into a walking pace, but he knew it was pointless, he was a dead weight. Sirens were cut out in favor of the sound of men shouting and running towards them. Mark sighed before giving up completely and just sitting on one of the upside down crates, pulling Jack down with him as he did so.

It wasn't long before police ran past them, one stopping to scrutinize them with suspicious eyes. "You alright, boys?" The policeman asked.

Jack looked up at him with confusion. "No. I feel really really really sick. This doesn't feel good anymore. I feel bad." There was a thin line of vomit and saliva sliding down his chin as if to emphasis his point.

With a raised eyebrow the policeman looked at Mark who was practically trembling in fear. He'd never been in trouble with the police before.

"Look, they gave him something, I don't know what. Please, help us." He practically whimpered, feeling like a complete coward for asking for help.

But the policeman just nodded, his face set in a calm expression. "I think we'll have to take you two down to the station to ask you some questions. Is that alright? We'll see your friend gets help."

Mark bit his lip before nodding and he felt another spark of fear fly through him as the police officer helped him carry Jack into the backseat of a police car.

Holy shit his mom was going to _murder_ him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok this chapter is faaaaaaaar too long (sorry bout that) but I think allot of shit went down, don't you? This story's beginning to get interesting :P I hope you enjoyed this chapter!  
> Ps: Should I add a trigger warning to this story? I honestly have no clue  
> BYEEEEEEEEEEEEE!


	15. The Police Station

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark and Jack go to the police station

Mark P.O.V

The trip to the police station was spent with Mark chewing his lip nervously while Jack murmured nonsense under his breath, looking out the window with eyes the size of dinner plates.

Mark had no idea what he was seeing that could possibly make him look so ecstatic but he was constantly rambling about how 'pretty' everything looked. Mark, out of curiosity, looked out the window himself but could only see the dark shadows of night occasionally broken by the orange street lamps that illuminated the buildings as they passed them.

The station wasn't far away, a large brick building surrounded by cars and windows that poured light onto the car park outside. When the police car finally stopped Mark carefully climbed out and, with the assistance of the policeman, pulled Jack out too. He supported Jack's weight as they walked the short distance to the entrance. Once inside a policewoman, who had a thick mop of dark hair and a pair of warm hazel eyes asked Mark their names and helped the two into a small white room filled with chairs that was probably used as a waiting room of some sort.

She set Jack down on one of the seats that lined the room and began cleaning him up as well as doing a series of tests on him, checking his pulse, temperature and asking him a few questions about how he felt before Mark was taken aside by the policeman from the car.

First the officer patted him down, probably to check if he had any drugs on him before he calmly lead the boy into a plain room that held only a table and two chairs either side.

It was like he had just dropped into one of those shitty crime movies but Mark knew that unlike all those mastermind criminals shown on the TV screen, he would spill everything, just like the little coward he was.

When they were both seated the cop went through the lawful procedure, explaining to Mark what was going to happen and how it was going to happen before falling silent, a notebook and pen in his hands and an expectant look on his face.

"Just start from the beginning." The man said calmly.

Mark's mouth went dry but whether it was due to fear or just thirst he had no idea. But then he began to talk and it was like once he started he couldn't stop. He told the officer everything, leaving out some details like Ashley's name but keeping mostly to the truth. When he reached the part about the tall man with a buzz cut the officer's eyes lit up with interest.

"Could you give me a description of that man, please?" He asked, jotting down everything Mark told him before asking another question. "Did you get a name?"

Mark shook his head.

"Alright, now here's a question. Why didn't you take the drugs or alcohol when they were offered?" The police officer asked, curiosity breaking his originally stoic expression.

Mark opened his mouth but then closed it again, furrowing his eyebrows in thought. He should really say something about how he didn't want to cross the law or something but instead he found himself speaking the truth. "I don't know. The idea just doesn't really appeal to me, I guess."

The policeman nodded. "Well, it certainly seems to appeal to your green haired friend in there, or at least it did."

Mark shrugged. "Yeah I guess." He wondered what the hell was up with Jack that made him do that. Drink was one thing, but drugs was a completely different ball game. Jack was probably going to get into serious trouble with the law and he'd barely been in the country for a month.

The police officer stood with a low sigh. "Alright, you're free to go. We're going to call your parents and tell them to come collect you."

Mark nodded and allowed himself to be taken from the interrogation room to a cell in which he would wait until his parents came for him.

Oh god his mom was going to fucking murder him. She wanted him to be the kind of son she could show off to her friends like a trophy. She couldn't do that if it got out that he spent the night in jail because he accidentally landed himself in the middle of a group of druggies. Fuck he was in trouble.

Guilt tore at his every being. God fucking dammit it wasn't his fault, but she might not see it that way.

Mark went and sat on the seat provided and just let his thoughts wander, anything to distract him from his current situation. He even looked out the barred window at the mostly deserted car park to pass the time.

Suddenly the door to the cell opened making Mark jump a little. He was getting far too paranoid.

Jack shuffled into the room with an exhausted looking police officer behind him. The officer let out a sigh before looking at Mark. "He won't stop asking where you are. Please, could you just keep him quiet until we can get hold of someone who can get him him safe." The officer's face was desperate.

Mark nodded and the man's face crumpled into one of relief. "Thank god for that. Good luck, he hasn't shut up since he got here." And with that the officer left, locking the door behind him.

Surprisingly enough Jack was silent now, sitting on the opposite side of the cell, uncharacteristically fiddling with his sleeve in a nervous habit. The silence drew out, filling the small room, only broken with the sound of Jack's heavy breathing. Mark didn't want to talk to the green haired boy, especially not now, when he was higher than the empire state building and probably had no idea what he was doing.

"I'm sorry that I kissed your girlfriend." Jack murmured, breaking the delicate quiet with an almost childlike tone.

Mark let out a loud sigh. "It doesn't matter, Jack."

The green haired boy made a little squeak of protest. "It does! You're mad and she's a horrible kisser anyway. I don't like her."

Mark let a tiny smile crawl onto his face, looking over at the Irishman. "Is that so?"

Jack nodded his head enthusiastically, shuffling a little closer to the other boy. "She's bad. It's her fault I feel all floaty right now."

Nodding Mark bit his lip. Should he ask? It wouldn't be fair seeing as the dude obviously has no idea what he's saying but if he waiting until the drug wore off Jack probably wouldn't tell him and his walls would come up taller and stronger than ever.

"Why did you take the drugs today?" He asked quietly.

The other boy pouted as he shook his head. "Shouldn't say." He muttered.

Mark let out a quiet sigh, thankful that the other boy wasn't angry with him. "I promise I won't tell anyone."

Jack thought for a few seconds before slowly nodding and gesturing for Mark to join him on the bed. Mark moved over and sat beside the other boy, leaning his back against the wall to mimic the way Jack was sitting. Then Jack began to talk, quiet but firm like he was trying to make sense of it himself.

"I went to visit my Ma. Ashley asked me to come to the party, I said no. Then-" Suddenly a dry sob left Jack and when he looked up at Mark, the half Korean was shocked to see his blue eyes welling up with tears. "S-she forgot me. Her son. She didn't know my name, my face or anything. A-and then sh-she thought I kidnapped her and started screaming, so much fucking screaming." He whispered, shaking.

"They took me away but I was so sad. I wanted to get trashed so I told Ashley to collect me. She picked me up and I got smashed but then she asked if I wanted something that would make me happy and I said fuck yes, because I'm the bad boy. That's what bad boys do, right? They do bad things." He continued, a tear sliding down his face. Mark wasn't even sure if Jack was talking to him anymore or if he was just talking for the sake of talking. It didn't matter anyway, the boy in front of him wasn't bad, just broken.

"Everything's all blurry after that. I'm so hungry, Mark. I want to eat an entire potato! But not raw, raw potato's fucking disgusting. I feel so sick." He groaned, a hand coming up to rest on his stomach.

Mark had no idea how to reply to that. Jack really did have one hell of a messed up life.

Suddenly the Irishman started giggling, snorts of laughter making him double over while Mark looked at him with that special brand of confused concern reserved for when your friend randomly bursts into a fit of uncontrollable laughter for no apparent reason.

"I'm high as all fucking balls right now." He chuckled. Mark studied the other with worry. He smelt of vomit, alcohol and that disgusting smoke but the policewoman had done her best to make him look at least half decent. His face was split into a wide grin but it didn't look relaxed as it had earlier in the night. Now it had an almost hysterical undertone to it that unnerved Mark to no end. "I'm gonna hate myself in the morning." Jack continued, laughing like it was the best joke in the world.

Mark bit his lip before speaking. "It's not your fault you know. You shouldn't hate yourself for this."

Jack shook his head, still laughing but his loud chortles had died down to a low rumble. "It's all my fucking fault. This was my decision to fuck myself up. You're a smart cookie to not to say yes." Jack poked Mark in the bicep making him jerk at the unexpected touch. "It doesn't feel good anymore. I wanna sleep." He announced quietly, his voice muffled by the hand he rubbed over his face.

Mark sighed finally feeling his own exhaustion and laying his head against the cold white wall, closing his eyes. Suddenly he felt something heavy land on his shoulder making him jump a little and snap his eyes open.

"Ugh fuck you, I'm trying to sleep." Came the muffled murmur from the Irishman who was currently laying his head gently on Mark's shoulder, his green hair tickling his neck and sending little shivers down his spine. "You make a good pillow." Jack added, snuggling in a little closer.

Mark sat completely frozen in place, unsure of what to do next. This was so fucking gay. He didn't want to wake Jack and have to start listen to his drugged up rambling again, the silence was nice and anyway this didn't feel all that bad. Sure the dude smelt like shit but at least he wasn't snoring and Mark knew he probably needed the extra sleep badly.

And so they just sat like that, Jack unconscious with his head resting on Mark's shoulder and Mark feeling very very awake and far too alert for his own liking. He couldn't stop thinking, over analyzing every single little thing his brain brought up. He was almost glad Jack was there, at least he wasn't completely alone with his thoughts.

Mark had no idea how long they sat there for but he did know that his neck began to ache after a while at the way he was bending it. He could only imagine what Jack's would feel like when he woke up.

The door to their cell swung open around the time Mark was contemplating the reason Grumpy Cat was a thing. It revealed the policeman from the car along with a large, slightly pudgy blonde haired man who had an expression of icy calm on his face. When he spotted the position the two were in his face wrinkled into a look of pure disgust. He grabbed Jack's arm and sharply jerked him up, startling Mark at the sudden loss of warmth on his shoulder.

"C'mon Jackaboy, I think it's time you came home, don't you?" The blonde said in a low growl. "Megan is beyond herself with worry."

Mark's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "W-wait who the hell are you?" He asked, still a little ruffled after being snapped out of his thoughts.

Jack looked incredibly dazed, hair sticking up in all directions and eyes blinking sleepily up at the blonde man. "'lo Jason, tha fuck do ya want?" He muttered as the man pulled him through the door completely ignoring Mark's question. The door closed behind them leaving Mark alone with his thoughts, a feeling he could definitely live without.

The silence stretched on until he heard it, a muffled grunt of pain, but it wasn't coming from inside, it was coming from the window.

Mark jumped to the barred window, looking out into the dimly lit car park. At first he couldn't see anyone out in the gloom of night but slowly he began to see the silhouettes of two people, one being supported by the other standing beside the dark outline of a car.

It was just Jack being helped into the car, nothing to be worried about, Mark thought about to move away again before he saw it. He saw the taller of the two raise his fist and bring it down sharply, the sound of flesh hitting bone traveling over to where Mark sat making a shiver of disgust roll down his spine.

What the fuck was happening? What did this guy think he was doing?

The two were well out of sight of the front doors by now and Mark watched in horror as the man brought his fist down again, holding a fistful of Jack's shirt to keep him within range. He could hear the quiet groans and grunts Jack was making as each punch struck and he felt sick to his stomach.

"I will not have a faggot living under my roof! Do you understand!?" Came a growl that was probably supposed to be low and threatening but ended up as more of a half strangled scream that sent shivers rocketing down Mark's back.

He watched, fighting back nausea as Jack was roughly flung into the back of the car, limp as a rag doll, the man stomping around to the driver seat and climbing in as though he hadn't just punched a boy half his size.

Mark's heart sank as he watched the car's tail lights disappear into the darkness even though all he wanted was to save his friend from whatever horrors awaited him when they finally reached their destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! This was so much fun to write omg xP I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	16. The Threat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack can't remember anything and Jason's angry

Jack P.O.V

Jack was dying, he was sure of it.

His thoughts were disjointed, covered in a thick layer of smoke that contorted his memories and made his head spin. His stomach burned painfully like he'd swallowed acid that was slowly eating him from the inside out and the world was whirling in a sickening spiral of colors that made Jack dizzy.

Jack had just woken up on something soft but he didn't move, his entire body stiff and aching especially his head which throbbed like he'd just been hit on the head with a frying pan. He opened his eyes blearily, winching at the searing bright light that sent a shot of pain straight to his brain. Jesus Christ that hurt like a bitch.

Where was he? What the fuck happened?

The green haired boy let out a low groan of pain, his throat was raw and sore. Looking around he soon recognized his room, the plain white walls almost comforting for once. Looking outside the window he noticed how dark it was. Must be nighttime.

As he tried to move off his bed a stab of pain shot through his chest, startling him so much he let out a quiet cry of pain. "Holy fuck." He muttered, slightly breathless from the pain that burned along his chest.

"Sean McLoughlin are you awake?" Came a yell from somewhere in the distance that made Jack's headache burst into a whole new world of pain. He could hear footsteps thundering up the stairs towards him and soon the door to his room was shoved open to reveal his sister dressed in her normal green nightgown and looking down at him with barely bridled rage.

"Sure, I'm awake. What ha-" Jack had attempted to pull himself into a sitting position but ended up letting out a strangled scream of pain when he tried to twist his torso to the side. He heard his sister curse quietly before running over to his bed and carefully helping him back down onto the pillows, her hands gentle despite her obvious anger.

"You idiot, you shouldn't be moving when you've got a bruised rib." She muttered, concern showing through the gaps of her anger. "And you've got a cut above your eye so try your best not to open it, it was hard enough to stop the bleeding the first time."

When he was finally lying down again Megan's lips pressed together in a thin line a look that Jack was all too familiar with.

"C'mon Megs. It's not so bad." The Irishman said softly, a smirk on his face. "We both know I'm no stranger to a bit of drink. Why are you so pissed about it all of a sudden?"

She snorted, shaking her head in disbelief. "Are you fucking kidding me, Jack? You think I'm pissed because you went out and got a few drinks?" Megan ran a hand through her dark brown hair, looking down at the floor as she thought of how to continue.

Jack cut her off before she could start whatever rant she was going to begin. "Well, if that's not it then what the fuck happened? I can't remember shit." And it was true. The last thing he could recall was talking to Ashley about something and then the rest was a black hole in his memories filled with nothing but empty space.

Megan let out a laugh but there was no humor behind it. "What happened, huh? Drugs happened, Jack. I got a call from the fucking police at nearly 1am telling me I need to come get my little brother from jail." Jack blinked at that, confusion on his face. What the fuck does she mean drugs? And how in the name of fuck did he end up in jail?

"Hey Megs, I've never taken drugs in my life. Drink, yes. Drugs, no. You're fussing over nothing." He said trying to sound nonchalant and reassuring despite the fear that made his stomach twist in knots. He wouldn't take drugs would he?

Well, then again, it really depends on how drunk he was at the time.

"Oh yeah, tough guy? Well then, explain to me why you were staggering in here covered in blood and your temperature through the roof with a massive grin on your stupid face as you talked shit about squirrels?!" She asked. Jack nearly snorted. Yeah right, as if he'd ever do something like that.

"So what? I got drunk and got beaten up, it happens." He shrugged, not believing this bullshit for a second. Who the hell would be dealing drugs in a town like this anyway? Everyone was too good for that crap.

Megan sighed, looking down at her younger brother with annoyance. "The fucking police said they picked you up after they got a call about a gang who were dealing drugs. They said you and one of those other kids were taken in for questioning but apparently you were too fucking stoned to answer anything!" She threw her arms in the air, her frustration coming through in the way her voice was becoming louder, angrier.

Jack shrugged and looked away from her. "I was probably just drunk. In the wrong place at the wrong time or something."

Megan's face was nothing short of murderous. "Do you think this is some kind of fucking game? Do you think I was sitting in here at 3 in the fucking morning trying to get you to calm down and go to sleep for shits and giggles?! I love you, you asshole." She half yelled, her voice breaking on the last word as her eyes filled with unshed tears. Jack found himself winching at the volume of the words, or at least, he told himself it was the volume. "Don't you ever fucking scare me like that again!"

She walked over to the side of the bed and gently wrapped her arms around her speechless little brother's neck, hugging him like he was made of glass. "I need you, Jack. With Ma and everything else I know I owe you big time, but I need you to be here in return. I need you to be here for me. Please. I can't do it on my own." She whispered, holding back tears.

Jack sighed quietly as he slowly patted his big sister on the back. This was nice. Normally he wasn't a very touchy feely kind of person but right now that didn't matter. She needed him right now. "Don't worry, Megs. It'll be fine." He whispered back which made her laugh quietly though her dry sobs.

"You always say that, Jack. And it's so stupid because I should be the one comforting you. Jesus I'm such a mess." She laughed, pulling away and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

He let a small smile spread across his lips. "Yeah, maybe....Just a little."

She reached over and ruffled his green hair and rolled her eyes when he let out a low groan of pain. "I'll go get you some aspirin for that hangover, you want some tea too?"

Nodding a thought suddenly occurred to Jack. "Wait, did you say I have bruised ribs?" Experimentally he reached a hand down to his rib cage and poked it, somehow still surprised when the action resulted in a stab of pain.

Megan laughed a little at her brother's stupidity but answered him as she stood in the doorway. "Yeah, doctor says painkillers are the way to go, nothing to do but wait until they cure themselves I'm afraid." She said smiling. "According to Jason you must've got in some kinda fight last night. By the way you've got some pretty bad bruising around your torso and back so I really wouldn't recommend trying to move for a bit."

The dark haired girl let out a loud yawn as she disappeared from the doorway, missing Jack's nod as he listened to her footsteps fade down the stairs and into the distance.

Now alone Jack pulled his shirt up not believing his sister's words. The evidence was clear. The entirety of his stomach was littered with bruises both old and new, the shades of light blue and dark brown scattered over his pale skin in an ugly patchwork of color. Who the hell did he decide to fight, the fucking Hulk?

Then Jack realized he was no longer alone, a shadow stood in the doorway of his room, watching him intently. Jack jumped, dropping his shirt back down to cover his battered stomach as Jason leaned casually against the door frame like some sort of overgrown guard dog.

"Hello Jackaboy. How're you feeling?" Jason asked, a hand reaching up to push a strand of slick blonde hair out of his eyes.

Jack eyed the older man warily. "Good, thanks." He answered slowly. He knew Jason wouldn't dare to try anything with Megan just downstairs but all the same he couldn't help but feel incredibly on edge when the man was around.

"Do you remember who beat the crap outta you?" Jason asked, making a gesture towards Jack's now covered stomach with a small smirk on his face. "Sure looks like they got a few good hits on you. Even managed to fuck your face up more than nature already did."

The green haired boy raised an eyebrow. Oh so it was going to be like _that_ , was it?

"No, I don't." He began, a small smirk growing on his face. "But keep talking, Jason, someday you might actually say something intelligent."

It was a stupid thing to say.

It was a stupid, childish and incredibly dangerous thing to say.

But Jack still said it.

Here was a man nearly twice Jack's height with easily three times the muscle who would, without hesitation, hurt and break Jack's body for fun. And for some goddamned unknown reason Jack thought it was a good idea to tease the guy while he was sitting in this tiny bubble of temporary safety. What the fuck was he doing?

Jason's face immediately flushed with anger, glaring blue eyes burning down on the Irishman with enough ferocity to set him alight. The man really did have some serious anger issues.

"The fuck did you just say, you little faggot?" Jason spat, fury emphasized in every word.

Jack blinked innocently back at the tall man. "What are you gonna do about it, big man? Are you gonna beat me in front of Megs? You need her, she keeps you from living on the streets so do you really think beating up her little brother in front of her is gonna make her wanna keep you around? Because I sure don't." Jack smirked, confidence filling his entire being. "But anyway, come on, hit me."

Is he still high or something? Did he have a death wish?

Maybe.

Jack's heart was pounding loudly in his chest, making his bruised ribs ache painfully but he couldn't find it in himself to care. It was a thrill, the thrill of being so close to danger but being completely untouchable. It was the same rush of adrenaline you got from riding roller coasters in theme parks, but admittedly that seems a far safer option than toying with the emotions of an asshole who wouldn't hesitate when beating the shit out of a kid years younger than him.

The blonde man's eyes were practically aflame, his hands clenched tightly into fists and releasing in his attempts to control his anger. Suddenly he rushed at Jack, using the younger boy's surprise at the action to press down hard on his injured ribs with large hands, showing no sign of stopping when Jack nearly screamed at the pure agony that tore through his body.

Jason was smiling, a sickening expression of happiness at the pain of something smaller than him. Jack was gasping raggedly, the taller man still pressing down roughly on his bruised ribs, sending shock waves of pain through his entire body.

The blonde haired man leaned down to Jack's ear, the boy nearly gagging as the putrid stench of alcohol and sweat surrounded him. "Don't fucking test me, Jackaboy. You think you're safe? You're wrong. Megan won't be near you forever and you know, I can make it look like an accident." He paused for a second, a dark laugh spilling from his lips as Jack whimpered weakly at the way the older man pushed down harder on the boy's rib cage. Jack was terrified his ribs would break at this point, the pressure making it hard and harder for him to breathe properly.

"But that's for another day, in the mean time, I don't think I've gone to see your dear mother in a while. Perhaps I should pay her a visit some of these days?" Jason purred, a triumphant smile growing on his features as he watched Jack's eyes widen in horror.

"N-no! Y-you c-can't!" He choked out with his limited supply of oxygen. Black spots were dancing across his vision and his head felt like it was going to explode but Jack didn't care about any of it. All he cared about was the low threatening tone in Jason's voice and the way his hands were clamping down on the smaller boy's sides bringing tears to his eyes with the pain.

"Oh but I can and I will. You might be safe for now, but she isn't. And like I said before, I can make it look like an accident." Jason growled and Jack didn't doubt him.

He could see how it would play out, it would be so damn easy. Jason could just waltz into her room claiming to be a friend of the family and Felix would believe him because he didn't know any better. He could imagine his own mother sitting in her little bed as usual, maybe she'd be sleeping or perhaps she'd be having a good day, reading a magazine or watching TV. All he would have to do is walk over to her and from then on it was up to Jason what happened next.

He would be the one to choose how Jack's Ma would die and Jack shivered at the thought of someone having so much power over someone so close to him. Would he choose to make it look just a mix up in medication that lead to an overdose? Or would he smother her with her pillow? Drown her? Strangle her? Stab her? Burn her alive?

The thoughts filled Jack's mind with images, each scenario worse than the last. He couldn't breathe under the crushing weight that still shoved down on his chest making him want to shriek in agony. He brought his hand up to weakly hit at the taller man's hands, attempting to push him off. He was slowly loosing consciousness and he couldn't fight it anymore.

"So you had better treat me with some fucking respect and keep your big mouth from now on, understand Jackaboy?" Jason sneered. Jack couldn't speak, all he could do was nod his head in a limp movement full of defeat. "Good. I'm really glad we had this little chat."

And with that he was gone and the pressure was released, leaving Jack like a fish out of water, taking great gulps of air that cleared his mind from the foggy dizziness of lack of oxygen. He saw someone appear at the doorway and heard a feminine voice shout his name. Hands were on him, attempting to get him into a position to help him breathe easier but Jack could still feel those hands pressing down on his rib cage, the fear of his bones shattering becoming more and more real every second.

"Jack! Jack! Snap the fuck out of it!" He heard someone shout at him from the distance but it was like they were in a tunnel a mile away. But he couldn't snap out of it.

His mind was swirling with images of his mother lying dead, her murderer towering over her with an evil smile on his face, his blonde hair greasy and an aroma of alcohol surrounding him like a blanket. Jack began to slowly calm down from his panic, finally aware enough to hear his sister muttering quietly to him as she pushed his fading green hair away from his eyes as he got his ragged breathing under control.

Oh god, what the fuck does he do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! I'm sorry if this is kinda bad but I had a ton of writers block from it :/  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter all the same :)  
> Also thankyou so much for all the awesome comments and for all the kudos and bookmarks this story has received.  
> I really appreciate it :D


	17. The Twisting of the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Mark...

Mark P.O.V

It was too much to take in.

Jack was being beaten at home? Mark thought that shit only happened in TV shows or in those countries where it was seen as normality to do such things. He shivered at the thought, he could never imagine his father even raising a hand his way and the image of a father striking his son in anger made him feel like vomiting.

What the fuck kind of messed up person would do such a thing? It was disgusting.

Mark's head was spinning as the door to his temporary cell swung open and he saw his mother standing on the other side, tight lipped and expressionless. His stomach immediately dropped, expecting a bout of shouting but she didn't say a word to him as she lead him out of the police station nor did she even so much as look him in the eyes the entire drive home.

Mark's every muscle was tensed up, almost as if he were expecting his mother to just turn around and punch him right on the nose. Honestly, in this mood, she might actually do just that. The thought made Mark fidget nervously, guilt making his stomach twist painfully in knots. He'd never really been in trouble like this before.

Ellen Fischbach was in no way a violent person, but she had always been a proud person who cared greatly about her image and the way her family and herself were perceived by other people. It was one of the things Mark never understood about his mother, frankly he didn't care much about what other people thought of him, a trait he apparently inherited from his dad. unless that person was Ashley in which case-

Ashley's harsh words rang through his head, the ones she bit out right before she turned to Jack and kissed him. She made him feel like shit just because he wouldn't take any of her fucking drink, how is that fair? And why did he feel so betrayed anyway? It wasn't like she was his girlfriend or anything.

Good god he was hopeless.

When his mom finally did speak they had arrived home. Ellen walked inside and set her car keys down on the table before turning to face her son with a stony expression.

"Kitchen. Now." She ordered shortly.

Mark nodded, having the decency to guiltily cast his gaze to the ground as he walked past her and down the hall towards the kitchen where he knew his dad and would be waiting patiently for them to come home.

Sure enough when he entered their large and modern kitchen it was to find his dad leaning on the counter, wearing his oldest pajamas and a grim look on his normally smiling face. Mark had never seen his father look so sombre.

When he realized that he was no longer alone Allan straightened up, looking his son dead in the eye. "You ok, Mark?"

Mark nodded silently, unable to keep the eye contact going and instead focusing on the tiled floor. He could hear his mother coming up behind him and circling around to stand beside her husband. He waited. Waited for the yelling to begin. He waited for his mom to let out all of the rage that he knew she'd been holding in up until this point. He waited.

But nothing happened.

"Mark, explain to me what happened tonight." Allan said calmly, looking down at his son with a tighter, harder version of his normal relaxed expression.

And so Mark began to talk, words spilling out of his mouth like water from a tap, but soon enough he began to realize just how much of the story he was cutting out. All of a sudden he had selective amnesia, remembering going to a party but unable to recall the host. He knew he was lead around the back of a big house but he couldn't remember who took him there or where this house was. He met a group of bad people there but all the faces were blurry and the names were jumbled. He hadn't touched a drop of drink all night but he still couldn't remember 90% of it. His entire story had more holes in it than a knitted jumper and he knew it.

The dark haired boy risked a glance up at his parents and that one look was enough to shut him up completely.

He wasn't fooling anyone.

"Mark, where did it all go wrong with you?" Ellen asked quietly, she didn't even sound mad anymore. If you want to make it super cliche then yeah, she wasn't angry, she was just disappointed.

But Mark didn't give a crap if she wasn't pissed, because he was. He was very, very pissed. "Are you fucking kidding me? Do you know how fucking hard it was to say no when drugs and alcohol were being thrust into my face? When everyone within a five mile radius is either drunk or high and you have to sit there and be the prude who refuses to join the party. Do you know what that's like? Because I do, and it fucking sucks." He spat, unable to control the anger that bubbled in his stomach.

He had no idea where this rage had spawned from, he was normally far more level headed than this but fuck it, it had to be nearly 4am, he was tired as all hell and now he was expected to sit and listen to how disappointed his parents were with him just because he was in the general facility of a drug gang. It was fucking ridiculous.

His mother however obviously didn't see his side of things because her face immediately scrunched up into a scowl. "Don't you swear at me, young man! Do you realize what imprint this will have on our family, Mark?! I had to pick you up from the police station. Word will spread an in no time you'll be considered more of a criminal than that McLoughlin boy." Her face burned red in her anger. "Stop being selfish and imagine how Carrie is going to have to live in the shadow of a brother who spends more nights in the police station than he does at home?"

Mark snorted. There was his mother, blowing things way out of proportion as per usual. But that comment she made about Jack seemed to add fuel to his fire, the thought of all the bullshit that dude was going through and then adding his mother's bullshit to that, it just seemed completely unfair.

"No, I'm gonna fucking swear if I please. I'm 18 years old mom, you can't boss me around like that anymore. Also, don't be so fucking dramatic, the worst thing that's gonna spread about this family is that you like to gossip more than all the old women in Sunny Side put together and we both know that it's true at least." He practically yelled, his anger getting the better of him. He really should've left it there, but fuck it he was on a roll. "And Jack's no fucking criminal."

Ellen froze, eyes narrowed and Mark knew immediately he'd made a mistake. "Who's Jack? You've never mentioned a 'Jack' before. Are you talking about that McLoughlin boy? Have you been associating with him, Mark?" She asked, suspicion clinging to every word.

Mark was caught.

There was no point in lying, she knew the answer just by looking at him so he decided silence was probably the best option.

"Mark Edward Fischbach. Answer me!" Ellen shouted, still caught up in her rage, eyes flashing dangerously.

Silence was so not the best fucking option.

"Oh for fuck's sake, yes! Alright? Sure I've been talking to him because goddammit he's actually not that bad once you get to know him. He isn't a criminal or troublemaker or whatever the fuck you seem to think he is. He's a good person." Mark argued because he needed her to realize he wasn't making friends with the fucking devil. "I don't understand why you had to go and get Aunt Fletcher to give me a stupid lecture against him because-"

She wasn't listening to him, she was too angry for that. But Allan was listening and he was looking at his son in concern but his words were calm as always. "We asked her to tell you to stay away from that boy because we were worried for your personal safety. Apparently we had good reason to do so. He was at the party tonight wasn't he? He was the one who took you to the drugs, am I right?"

Mark sighed, fidgeting with his sleeves nervously. "N-no. Well, yes he was there but he didn't take me to the dru-"

"I thought you couldn't remember who lead you to those people, Mark. Why do you feel like you need to lie to us? I knew that boy was bad news, but I never dreamed he'd drag you into something as disgusting as a drug habit." His mother said, her face screwed up in disbelief.

Mark threw his hands up in exasperation. "How many times do I have to tell you?! Jack's a good fucking person! He's just going through some shit. Plus he didn't get me into a fucking 'drug habit' or whatever, he was just kinda there." He finished, feeling as though his argument was at least truthful.

The looks on his parent's faces were far from convinced. His mother was shaking her head in disapproval. "I can't believe _my son_ would get mixed up in such a crowd. I am so disappointed in you Mark. You never used to be like this, you never used to lie to us before that boy came into town. He's a horrible influence on you, it's lies and drugs now, what will it be next if we let this carry on?" She asked and Mark fought to keep his anger down.

"Could you please go to your room now? We need to talk." Allan said quietly, watching his son carefully as he stood silently and began to walk out.

"And Mark." Mark turned at the sound of his mother's voice. She was staring after him, eyes full of sadness. "Whatever we do, we do it because we love you. We want nothing more than to do what's best for you."

With a grim nod Mark left the room, an empty pit at the bottom of his stomach.

***

"Hey Mark." Carrie whispered, hesitantly poking her head into his room, hair spilling down in a waterfall of jet black. "You okay?"

Mark was lying on his bed fully dressed, facing the ceiling, his hands clasped over his stomach. He'd been in this position for the guts of half an hour, just thinking, thinking about all the shit that had gone down in barely a week. He probably should've tried to fall asleep seeing as the clock was reaching nearly 5am but he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes when Jack was probably being beaten to shit right now.

Mark regretted not telling the police while he had the chance. Mind you, he had no real solid proof that there was anything to tell. He had only witnessed a punch in a deserted car park, not much to go on. Essentially he had nothing to do with the family and he didn't know Jack's position well enough to make the decision for him. The green haired boy was technically an adult, if he was in trouble why wasn't he reporting it himself? It made no sense.

Mark let out a sigh, loud and full of exhaustion. "Sure, why wouldn't I be? Don't suppose I've managed to piss you off too, huh?"

He heard his sister let out a laugh as she entered the dark room. Mark hadn't bothered turning on any lights when he came up here so it was nearly pitch black inside.

"No, not just yet." Mark could see her smiling, a thin shred of light coming through the crack in the door to illuminate her pearly white teeth in the darkness. "It just sounded like mom and dad were giving you a bit of a hard time, wanted to check up on you."

He let out a dry laugh but there was no humor there. "Yeah, thanks for your help on that by the way. I really appreciate it." His voice was hard and he knew he was being a dick but he was too tired to care.

Carrie snorted in an unladylike fashion. "It was your fight, not mine, big bro."

Mark couldn't help but let another sigh escape his lips. "Yeah, I know. Sorry, I'm kinda tired."

"I can't blame you, I'd be tired too if I stayed up half the night getting high and then getting caught." She sniggered which earned her a light slap on the arm from her brother.

"Fuck you, we both know that's not what happened." He chuckled, feeling a little better than he had before his sister had walked into the room. This was nice, just talking for once. Even if it was about his getting arrested by the police.

A yawn wracked him and he threw his hands up, stretching his muscles lazily with a quiet groan. Carrie poked him in the side with a chuckled.

"Go to bed, sleepyhe-" Carrie began before being abruptly cut off.

"Mark! Get down here!" Came a shout from downstairs that made the dark haired boy freeze, anxiety creeping back into his relaxed demeanor and making his muscles tighten in anticipation. He climbed out of bed and shuffled his way down the stairs, aware of how silent the kitchen was now, like a graveyard.

When he walked in it was to see his mom standing with a phone held tightly in her hand, his dad nowhere to be seen.

"Now, before I explain to you what's happening I'm going to need you to promise to sit down and really listen to what I have to say. No interruptions, understood?" Ellen said slowly.

Mark didn't have it in him to argue and just walked closer, taking a seat at the counter opposite his mother who began to fiddle with the phone just like Mark did when he was nervous. It was something he'd inherited from her, a habit that ran in his blood.

"Mark, look, I know you seem to think this boy is a good person. Maybe you even think that what he does is right. But that doesn't mean it is. You see, honey, you let him into your head. I know it was an accident but all the same, you did, and he has, for want of a better word, brainwashed you to think he's the good guy here." Mark's mouth dropped open. What the actual fuck even was this?

"We are going to give you one more chance, Mark, because you're an adult and we respect that. But either stay away from that boy or we will be forced to take action ourselves. I will not allow you to bring this family down with you and if you continue to drown us, I will not hesitate to cut you loose. Do you understand, Mark?" She asked, her voice firm and steady.

Ellen needn't have warned him not to interrupt.

Mark was shocked into silence.

"Mark! Do you understand what I'm saying?" She persisted.

The dark haired boy felt his head nod without permission and he heard his mother let out a sigh of relief. "Good boy. I'm glad you see our side of things. Go up to bed now." She said happily, a small smile on her face.

Slowly he got up, dragged himself up the stairs in a daze and ignoring his sister in favor of falling into his bed with a loud huff.

"Mark? What happened? What did she say?" Carrie asked, concern pulling at her curious tone.

"I think Mom just threatened to disown me." He muttered, eyes widening at the realization. "Oh fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD I HATE WRITER'S BLOCK SO MUCH! GAWWD I WAS WORRIED I WOULDN'T GET THIS UP IN TIME DAMMIT!  
> Anyway *deep breaths* I hope you enjoyed this chapter :D  
> *dies because of writers block*


	18. The Weight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has a crap weekend

Jack P.O.V

The rest of Jack's weekend slipped away in a dull blur of sleepless nights and days spent practically glued to his Ma's bed, watching over her like her own personal, slightly exhausted body guard. He couldn't stop reliving the nightmares of what Jason would do to her, tossing and turning for hours before falling into a fitful sleep that barely lasted an hour. He refused to leave her out of his sight afterwards, paranoia setting in.

As soon as he had arrived in his Ma's room Felix had pulled him aside, concern filling his blue eyes. "Look, Jack. Sam's condition has taken a decline during the last few days and you know that. She's refusing to eat anything solid because it's hurting her to swallow and she hasn't spoken to any of us in 3 days. I've been trying to convince her to take soup to at least have something in her stomach but it hasn't been easy. She's in the more severe stages and we might have to send her to a hospital in the city if this continues."

Jack knew he had gone pale, he could practically feel the blood drain from his face, but he still felt himself nod slowly in response. "Do whatever you think is best." He forced out, his voice rough and gritty from the alcohol he'd burned it with the night before. If his mother was moved to the city he wouldn't get to see her, protect her, help her like he was supposed to. He had no money to buy his own place in the city and Megan wouldn't allow him to touch her car with a ten foot pole. If his Ma left, he would be left high and dry, stuck in this deadbeat town with no reason to stay.

Felix sighed quietly, running a hand through his blonde hair. "I know it seems like she only just got here but we really don't have enough staff to give her the 24/7 care that she deserves. Plus, I think she might be happier in a place that is more suited to her needs. I know she's been feeling sad recently." The Swedish man sounded apologetic, his voice strained.

  
Jack didn't need Felix to tell him his Ma was feeling down, it was written all over her face when he walked through the door. He could tell in the way his Ma could no longer look him in the eye, her eyes always focused on her lap, the floor or her thin fingers which would fiddle nervously with her blanket. It was like she was ashamed to look him in the face. She was weak, weaker than Jack had ever seen her, barely able to move herself without assistance from a carer. He really understood why they couldn't always give her the extra treatment, the place was understaffed as it was.

"Don't worry, Felix. I get it." Jack sighed. He really was tired. Not just physically but mentally as well. Stress weighed down on him like a ton of bricks thrown upon his shoulders and he'd never really noticed it until another brick was added, another problem on top of a million others slowly bringing him to his knees the longer he held onto them. All he wanted was for his mother to be happy and if he had to send her away to achieve that, he would do it. No matter how much it hurt.

Felix nodded, a sombre look on his face. "Nothing's finalized yet, Jack, but I just thought you should know. We'll be keeping a close eye on her condition and see where we go from there, okay?"

Jack let a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth even though he didn't feel like smiling and reached a hand out to pat Felix on the shoulder gently. "Sure, keep me up to date, okay?"

The blonde gave him a grim smile in return along with a nod before leaving Jack to go back into his Ma's little room where she lay sleeping peacefully. He let out a low sigh, brushing a little strand of hair away from her bony face. She was always tired nowadays because she was too scared to close her eyes at night, even reading her stories didn't seem to work anymore.

"I love you, Ma." He whispered, placing a tiny kiss on her forehead, purposefully ignoring the stupid fucking tear that leaked from his eye and crawled down his cheek as he moved back over to his normal seat to watch over her while she slept.

***

On Monday morning Jack found himself reluctantly walking through the gates of the local high school, unable to tear himself away from the uncontrollable desire to turn his heel and walk straight back out again.

He didn't want to be here at all, his mind so full of worry for his mother's safety while he was gone that he could barely function. So why was he here, you ask?

Megan McLoughlin was a stubborn bitch, that's why.

They had argued for the guts of an hour last night but she just wouldn't fucking listen to him, claiming he should be out here having a social life instead of being cooped up in their Ma's bedroom when he didn't need to be.

The green haired boy had replied with venom, she needed him, he couldn't leave her alone especially now when her condition had gotten so much worse in such a short space of time. But Megan wouldn't listen to a word that came out of his mouth, trying to reassure him that she would go and stay with her instead if it would make him feel better. He knew she was lying.

Megan hated visiting their Ma, not because she hated her or anything stupid like that, in fact it was quite the opposite. Megan couldn't stand to see what she had become, a pale, hollow and fragile shell of a human being that had once been their mother, full of life and happiness. Jack hated thinking about it that way but it was the truth. All the joy had been sucked out of their mother because of this sickness, it wasn't fair.

"Jack?" He heard a voice ask as a hand came down on his shoulder, keeping a firm hold on him, grounding him to earth like an anchor. "Are you okay?"

He nodded without even thinking about it as he looked up into the face of Mark Fischbach, his warm brown eyes full of concern. The green haired boy blinked hard, bringing himself back into present day with a crash. He was standing in the middle of the history classroom and Mark still had his hand on his shoulder, eyes searching his face for any sign of discomfort.

"Are you sure?" The half Korean pushed and Jack couldn't help but feel a spark of irritation ignite in his chest. Why the fuck does he even care?

"Yes Mark, I'm fine." He said sharply, much harsher than he first intended. Oh, so he was going to go back to being a dick, was he? Seriously? "Sorry, I-"

"Oi! Faggot! Wanna go for another round!?" Came a shout from behind him, alerting him to the fact he was standing in the middle of a classroom full of students who were all probably listening into their conversation right now. Judging, commenting and bitching about him and his fucking life decisions. Fuck this shit.

He made to turn and leave but there was someone blocking his way, a tall and bulky, dark haired boy stood in his way, a smirk gracing his lips like a child who got away with stealing from his mother's cookie jar. Ethan.

Now, last week Jack would've probably picked a fight with the boy there and then. This was the boy who gave him a hard time on his first day about being Irish, a grade A prick who enjoyed to act like a big man in class. Everything about him, his aura, his attitude and his face in general just annoyed Jack in every way possible.

But too much had happened in this last week for him to particularly give two shits about what this bastard thought of him.

Jack made to walk straight past the other boy but was instead sent flying backwards with an unexpected punch to the jaw. The hit sent black spots dancing across his vision and he shook his head trying to clear it as the sounds of yelling became apparent.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?! He didn't even do anything!" Came a shout. Was that Mark?

Jack was just so _tired_. Like sure, he'd been sleepy before but he had never felt exhaustion like what he felt right now, his eyes drooping as his jaw throbbed dully. He couldn't keep his eyes open and he could feel himself falling into unconsciousness, unable to fight the tempting peacefulness that came with being knocked out. This was fucking stupid, he'd taken hits far harder than this from Jason and he'd been fine. Yet he could feel himself slipping away, a kind of silent relief taking over his mind.

The last thing Jack heard before he went completely under was the strangely satisfactory sound of a nose being broken followed by Ethan spewing curses. Funnily enough, he found it a sweet, sweet lullaby as he finally fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep for the first time in far too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was kinda a filler chapter and i know it might be kinda short but hopefully the next couple will make up for it xP Seriously thank you so much for all the kudos and awesome comments on this story! It means so much to me :D (i know i say it a lot but fml I can't help it)  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	19. The Nurse's Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark and Jack talk...
> 
> Such a beautiful summary :')   
> I'm getting so much better at these, am i right? xP

Mark P.O.V

Mark was never a violent person. In fact he normally avoided fighting with his fists at all costs, mostly because he had never liked the whole 'bad boy' image. He always thought it was over cliched and landed you in far more trouble than it was worth, however over the week he'd known Sean McLoughlin you could say his view on the subject had changed rather drastically.

Come to think of it, a lot had changed about Mark Fischbach over the last 7 days.

A week ago Mark would've never dreamed he would be sitting in the school nurse's office holding a wet cloth to his forehead to try to stop the blood that spewed from his hairline, running down his face after he got in a fight with Ethan Gardener of all people. And yet, here he was, with an unconscious, green haired Irishman lying in the bed opposite him just to top it all off.

The school nurse was at least kind, helping him to drag the dead weight of the other boy onto the soft mattress before handing him his wet cloth, telling him to fetch her when Jack woke up and disappearing from the room without asking any questions. Mark had appreciated that, he wasn't in the mood to answer them.

He found himself staring at the other boy, taking in his brightly colored hair and the light shadow of stubble that lined his jaw. He looked so small and not even just in body. The Irishman no longer had that aura of carelessness or that stupid facade of a tough guy to hide behind. Instead he looked like a child who stayed up the whole night playing video games.

Mark nearly laughed as the other boy began to regain consciousness, wrinkling his nose and squeezing his eyes shut against the onslaught of light from above. He let out a little muffled groan as he moved his mouth for the first time and reached a hand up to brush his jaw gently to assess the damage. Then Mark noticed his shirt riding up a little as he shifted on the bed, revealing a display of ugly brown and yellow bruises marking the skin. He winched at the sight, unable to imagine how much they must hurt.

Jack coughed quietly and Mark snapped his gaze back up to his blue eyes, noticing how Jack quickly pulled his shirt down when he realized what Mark was staring at. Jack eyed him warily, all sleepiness gone as he began to swing his legs over the side of the bed and just sat there for a while, as though preparing himself. "Look, it's nothing." He finally said, shattering the delicate silence that Mark was too afraid to break. His voice was dry and weighed down with fatigue even though he had just woken up from a good hour of sleep.

The American's mouth opened to protest but before he could say anything he was cut off. "Leave it, Mark." The Irishman spat bitterly, looking at the floor. Mark noted how hunched his form looked, so beaten down, and he felt an urge to move closer just to give him a hug, tell him everything would be alright. "It's none of your business."

Mark adjusted his hold on his cloth as he stood, giving in to what he felt was right and moving closer to the smaller boy, sitting beside him on the bed. He was surprised when the other boy didn't move away or protest, he just sat there and let Mark give him the tiny comfort that he would allow. Mark sat there for a few seconds, not saying anything, before he opened his mouth.

"I saw what he did to you, Jack. And sure it's not any of my business but he shouldn't be allowed to do that to you." Mark said quietly, not wanting Jack to think he

Then Jack looked up at him, confusion in his eyes. "Wait, what the hell are you talking about? You were at Ashley's party?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at the taller boy who still held a bloody rag to his head with one hand.

Mark nodded slowly. Did Jack not remember anything? Well, then again, maybe it was mixing drugs and alcohol together that did it, that couldn't be good for your brain that's for sure. "Yeah I was. Don't you remember who gave you those bruises, Jack?" He asked just as slow. The other boy snorted quietly before shrugging nonchalantly.

"No, but according to Jason, my uhh sister's boyfriend, I got drunk as fuck and got in a fight or something. Sure sounds like me, right?" He said, a small smirk growing on his features that Mark couldn't help but notice looked forced and strained. Never in his life had Mark heard someone sound so driven into the ground.

Mark blinked. Hold up a fucking second.

"Wait, he told you that you got into a fight with some random dude at the party? And you _believed_ him?"

Jack shrugged at the question, watching Mark's expression of complete and utter disbelief with his eyes full of distrust. "Yeah. Why do you care? It's not like you know the guy."

Mark let out a short laugh full of incredulity. "I don't need to know the guy. I saw him beating the shit out of you outside the police station. I don't know if you were too drunk or high or what to remember but that prick was laying into you, and it looked pretty bad."

Suddenly Jack was up on his feet, heading towards the door and turning the lock. He spun around to face the half Korean, a look of thunderous anger on his face. "Who did you tell?" He spat. Mark blinked at him, rather alarmed at the drastic change of mood. "Who the fuck did you tell!" Jack practically shouted.

Mark held his hands up almost as if he were expecting to be attacked by the other boy. "I didn't tell anyone alright! No one. Calm the fuck down."

Jack didn't calm down, instead he moved towards Mark, fire sparking behind his eyes. He grabbed the other boy's shirt, bunching it up in his fist before getting up in Mark's face, so close Mark could feel his breath brushing against his face. He could sense the tension in the room building as sweat broke out on his skin. Jack may have been smaller than him but dear god did he look capable of murder at that moment, breathing heavily in his rage with his fists clenched tightly.

"Listen here, Mark. Why the fuck are you always sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong when it comes to my life? Why are you so incapable of minding your own fucking business?!" He growled, coming even closer in an attempt to intimidate the taller boy. Mark hated the fact that it was working. "This is so much bigger than just me taking a few punches, don't you get that?!"

Still he answered to the display, pushing the smaller boy away firmly, sending him back a few steps. "No, I don't. I'm not gonna sit here and fucking ignore the fact that my friend is getting beaten to a fucking pulp every time he goes home! What kind of person do you think I am!?" Mark shouted, injecting as much fire into his words as he possibly could.

Jack was silent for a second, a stunned look on his face. "We're...friends?" He asked slowly, as though unable to believe the notion.

Mark ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Of course we are, you dumbass! Hell I'm not even supposed to be talking to you right now, but yet here I am, because you are my friend and I need you to know you're not alone in all this shit." He didn't expect so much passion in his words and yet it was there. He needed Jack to believe him, he needed him to understand.

Jack sank onto the bed, his eyes never leaving Mark's face as he spoke again, calmer than he had before. "Why aren't you supposed to talk to me? That makes no sense."

"Lets just say my family aren't big fans of 'outsiders'. They think you're trouble. They've warned me off you ever since you arrived." Mark said, choosing his words carefully so as not to offend the Irishman.

He watched as the green haired boy let out a barely audible sigh before speaking. "So they're like everyone else in this godforsaken town. And they were right weren't they? If you were at the police station with me I can only imagine what shit I got you into." He looked up from the white bed covers to face warm brown eyes, searching them with a newfound curiosity. "But if they warned you off me from the start, why did you talk to me?"

It was Mark's turn to shrug his shoulders, a small smile on his face. "I guess I wanted to give you a chance."

Jack shook his head, casting his gaze down to the covers again. "You shouldn't have. I'm not worth the extra heartache. You should just ignore me from now on, I won't hold it against you. Your family are more important than anything else in the world, that's something I know for certain."

The dark haired boy snorted. "You don't know my family."

Blue eyes glanced up at him but must have decided against commenting because he immediately changed the subject. "Are you okay?" He pointed at the cloth Mark was now crumpling up in his hand, something he'd only just remembered existed.

"O-oh yeah, I'm fine. It's just a scratch. Can't say the same for Ethan though." Mark said, a small grin crawling onto his face.

Jack let a smile tug at the sides of his mouth as he raised an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

"Because he's in A&E right now with a broken nose." Mark smirked, unable to keep the smugness out of his voice. "I would've gotten away completely unscathed hadn't the bastard swung at me with a ring on his goddamned finger." He gestured to the thin cut that went from the beginning of his hairline to the middle of his right eyebrow, the sliced skin red and raw looking in the shitty lamp light.

Jack chuckled quietly before asking something that he really felt he should've asked sooner. "Why did you punch him? He didn't have a beef with you, you could've just walked away. Why didn't you?"

The half Korean shrugged. "I don't know. I think you're going through enough shit lately without him being a dick and anyway, you didn't do anything to provoke him, it was a completely unfair fight."

"So, what? You're my knight in shining armor or something?" Jack asked, a laugh escaping his lips as he placed his head lazily on one hand.

"Yeah that's right, you're one of those damsels in distress and I am the extremely brave, extremely handsome knight in shining armor that came to save your sorry ass. Sound good?" Mark asked, a smug smirk plastered on his face.

Jack snorted. "Sounds like you'd be that knight who checks his refection every two seconds to make sure his hair looks good, so I'm afraid I'd rather just save myself thanks."

"Oh yeah? Well-"

Mark's obviously extremely witty retort was cut off when there came a knock from the door.

"Hello?" The door handle rattled loudly as someone attempted to open the door even though it was locked. "Why is this door locked? Open it right now!"

Shit, was that Aunt Fletcher?

Mark shoved Jack down on the bed making him let out a squeak of shock. Mark gave him a pointed glare that would hopefully keep him silent before he walked over and unlocked the door. It burst open to reveal the one and only Miss Fletcher, her skin flushed with the exertion of fighting a wooden door.

Her eyes flared when they laid on Mark. "I can't believe you would get into a fight, Mark. You are supposed to be above that level of idiocy. I thought your parents raised you better than that. You put that poor boy in hospital for no reason." She ranted as Mark looked down at the ground in his best imitation of shame. He certainly didn't feel it, if anything he felt proud of himself for protecting his friend. Fuck whatever his family thought about it.

He then heard something he hadn't been expecting to hear.

"Ugh, Miss?" Aunt Fletcher's eyes snapped over to where Jack lay on the bed, taking in the bruise on his jaw and the way he was smirking arrogantly up at her. Her nose wrinkled a little in disgust and Mark held his breath, waiting for the moment when she would blow and release all her hatred onto the green haired boy.

"Yes, McLoughlin?" She forced out through gritted teeth.

"Well, technically Mark didn't start the fight. Ethan was the one to throw the first punch." He gestured towards his jaw. "Which served to knock me out. Mark simply stood up for me while I was down, you should be proud of how brave he was to do that."

Mark bit his lip. Shit.

Miss Fletcher's eyes blazed. "You're trying to say that Ethan attacked you without any form of provocation on your part? I don't believe that for a second. That boy may have a loud mouth but he has never gone as far as to wish bodily harm upon a fellow student."

Jack opened his mouth to respond but Miss Fletcher cut him off. "Now, Mr McLoughlin. The principle asked me to send you straight to his office as soon as you woke up. I assume he wishes to hear your account of what happened so I wouldn't keep him waiting if I were you, he can be extremely impatient when he wishes to be."

The green haired Irishman shrugged, jumping out of the bed and walking towards the door but before he disappeared through it he stopped at the doorway to the irritation of Mark's aunt. "By the way Mark, thanks. I appreciate what you did."

And with that he was gone leaving Mark to deal with his pissed off aunt who was practically foaming at the mouth.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! So so sorry this chapter's a bit late, I quite literally slept for the whole freaking evening yesterday and I had nothing written for this morning but I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	20. The News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phone calls and principles

Mark P.O.V

"And to think you then have the audacity to turn around and disobey both your parents and myself at the first opportunity you get, I honestly can't believe you Mark." Miss Fletcher barked as though Mark was actually listening. By now they'd reached the point where his aunt was using any and every word from the dictionary she could remember to describe his absolute stupidity in the fanciest most over the top way imaginable.

But to be perfectly honest he had lost the will to give a shit about a quarter of the way through.

"Your mother will be hearing about this!" She announced suddenly and Mark couldn't help but feel his heart sink down to his shoes.

There goes his family.

Nobody would care that he'd meant well. Nobody in that house would give a shit that he still loved them all more than they could ever imagine. No one would care.

They obviously didn't give a fuck about him if they were willing to disown him over something as fucking ridiculous as talking to someone they didn't like very much. It was so incredibly stupid that he couldn't even fathom why he still cared. But he did, and it sucked.

It hurt him to think that the people who raised him didn't care enough to take into account what _he_ thought was right for _him_. But it didn't matter anymore, they would be rid of him soon and they could all go to fucking hell for all he cared.

Okay that was a little bit drastic. But hey, it's not like they'd care. He wouldn't be their son anymore after all.

There was a soft knock at the door which opened slowly to reveal Mark's elderly math teacher Mrs Adams, her snow white hair a cloud of fluff around her head. Don't let the hairstyle fool you though, she's still one of Mark's most hated teachers thanks to her strict discipline and stubborn attitude to basically everything.

She was standing up completely straight as though someone had gone and shoved a pole up her ass and her dark eyes were narrowed into slits as she flicked them from student to teacher. Eventually she spoke, her raspy, slightly hoarse voice giving away both her old age and her love of having a quick cigarette during her lunch break.

"The principle wants to hear Fischbach's story now, Miss Fletcher. If you are quite done." She raised a single eyebrow, wrinkles on her forehead becoming more pronounced as she did so.

His aunt gave him a stern look. "We'll talk more about this later, Mark." She said stiffly, before giving a terse nod to the elderly teacher, stalking out of the room, the clip clops of her high heels echoing around the corridor with her every step.

Mrs Adams didn't even bother to give Mark a second look, instead turning and leaving the room expecting him to follow. Which he did.

It's not like he had a choice in the matter.

The old lady lead him surprisingly quickly down the corridor and to the left where he knew the principle's office was situated. Mark bit his lip, suddenly overcome with a weird mixture of nerves and guilt, something about standing in front of the principle's office just making everything he had ever done wrong in his life stand out starkly in his memory.

It was a remarkably long list.

Mark sighed quietly before opening the door and entering the principle's office immediately noting that it was far smaller than he had expected. The room was decorated simply, nothing in the room too flamboyant or too bright. The walls were a pale cream color and held plain wooden shelves which were lined with books.

As expected there was a desk behind which sat the headmaster, Mr Kelly, a middle aged man with light brown hair and a slightly rumpled black suit paired with a light blue tie. Mark had never really spoken to the man much but he was almost certain that he didn't normally look this ruffled, his hair sticking up in random directions and his tie loosened so much that it hung around his neck like a dog collar.

The man looked stressed, his desk overflowing with papers and files which seemed to have no organization what so ever. In one section the sea of paper had been pushed aside to make way for the man's sleek, possibly brand new laptop and a small, slightly battered looking phone.

"Take a seat, Fischbach." Mr Kelly said, gesturing to the ancient looking wooden chair that sat opposite him.

Mark sat on the offered seat, flashbacks of sitting in an equally uncomfortable chair in the police station making him shift a little, trying to make it seem less like an interrogation and more like a discussion between a teacher and his pupil. It really wasn't working.

"Okay, Mark." Mr Kelly sighed, leaning forward on the table, his hands clasped in front of him. He didn't look threatening in any way, in fact, he looked like the perfect picture of an over worked, under paid and incredibly stressed out adult, who had far too much shit on his plate as it was without having to deal with this.

The image was sort of comforting.

A silence stretched out between the two for a few seconds before the principle spoke again. "Why did you attack Mr Gardener? Did he provoke you?" Even though he had been described as short tempered the man in front of Mark looked completely calm, the polar opposite of the picture Mark's aunt had painted of him.

"No, he uh- well he sort of did, I guess. He punched Ja- I mean Sean in the face and when I saw that I got angry, Sean didn't even do anything to provoke him, he was completely innocent in the whole thing. So I punched Ethan before he got another shot at Sean while he was down."

The principle's reaction was not what he'd been expecting. Instead of a calm and calculated expression there was a look of surprise on the principle's face with a little bit of shock thrown in. Mark's eyebrows came together in confusion. Hadn't he already spoken to Jack?

"Uh, did Sean not already tell you about this?" Mark asked slowly, watching as the teacher straightened up in his chair with a sigh.

"No, he didn't I'm afraid." The principle sighed, taking a pen out of his pocket and rustling around in his mountain of papers until he found a blank page that he could write on. Clicking his pen he wrote a few things down before looking expectantly at the dark haired student, pen carefully poised to take his notes.

But that didn't make any sense. Mark couldn't understand why the hell Jack would say anything other than the truth when he wasn't in the wrong? What the fuck did Jack say? Why the hell would he lie about this?

"Why don't you bring him in and ask him again. I swear this is the truth and I have no idea why he would say any different." Mark blurted out quickly but thankfully the principle didn't seem very alarmed at the outburst.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Mark. Sean has been sent home so I cannot ask him for his account on the matter and seeing as Mr Gardener is currently in A&E with a broken nose that _you_ gave him, he is also unable to give me an accurate testimony. So, on that note, could you please explain exactly what happened." The principle said firmly, not giving Mark much of a choice.

Mark nodded slowly, his mind swirling with questions that he knew wouldn't be answered. He might as well suck it up for now.

"Alright so, I met Sean when he was going into history and then..."

***

Mark was sitting in his room just waiting. Waiting for his aunt to make that phone call to his parents like she promised she would. Waiting for his mom to come thundering up the stairs with a phone in her hand and fire in her eyes before she commanded him to take his stuff and leave her house before she called the cops.

To be perfectly honest it was pretty dismal.

He wondered why he hadn't packed anything in advance. Maybe some money, some clothes, a toothbrush and some other shit that might help him not end up without a roof over his head. Perhaps he should start packing now, get everything sorted out for when that phone finally rang. Because it would ring eventually. It may be minutes, hours, days or weeks but Mark knew that phone would ring and it would be his aunt of the other end, preparing herself to say the words that would completely destroy his life.

But hey, he had no one to blame but himself, right?

He jumped a foot in the air when he heard a phone ringing. Oh fuck, already? He hadn't packed, he hadn't thought about what he'd say or what he'd do to defend himself against the onslaught of razor sharp words that were about to come his way. Holy shit he wasn't ready to leave just yet. Everything outside this house was big and scary, they couldn't kick him out there and expect him to survive.

He'd die, sad and alone in a dirty gutter somewhere far away from here and his family wouldn't even know because they wouldn't be his family anymore. He'd have no one left in the world to care.

It took him far too long to realize that the ringing was coming from his pocket.

When he was done mentally dumping a bucket of reality on his head he picked up the phone without even glancing at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

_"Hey Mark."_

Mark blinked. The voice had a familiar Irish accent pulling at every word. Mark found himself smiling at the way he'd been panicking, god he was so stupid sometimes.

"Jack? Is that you?" He asked, nearly laughing out loud at his own response. I mean, really? How many other people with that accent did he know? Idiot.

 _"Um, yeah."_ Something was wrong. Mark could tell in the way Jack's voice no longer held the small lilt of confidence that it always held. It always had that little spark of life that made Jack well...Jack. But now it was nowhere to be heard, replaced with an uncertain, bland sound that Mark couldn't even imagine coming out of the other boy's mouth.

"Are you okay?" Mark asked quickly, concern coloring his voice as he held his phone tightly to his ear.

Jack was silent for a few seconds and Mark's heart thudded painfully in his chest. _"Mark...you're my friend, right?"_ Jack finally asked hesitantly and Mark didn't even hesitate for a moment.

"Of course I am, Jack. What's wrong?" Mark assured him quietly, almost as though he was worried if he spoke too loud he would scare the green haired boy away and he would end the call

There was an even longer silence, one that could've lasted just a few seconds or a thousand years, Mark didn't know. He was completely focused on the soft breathing he could just about hear coming from the other side of the phone, reassuring him that Jack was still there.

 _"It's my Ma, she died this morning."_ Mark's heart skipped a beat. Jack's voice was dry and cold, almost robotic as he delivered the news. The sound made Mark shiver in discomfort. Jack wasn't supposed to sound like that. He didn't even sound alive. He sounded like a puppet that had it's strings cut, something damaged beyond repair.

"I- I'm so sorry." Mark whispered, barely audibly through the phone. The news shocked him to the core. Even though he knew the woman was sick, he couldn't believe she was gone.

Jack's answer wasn't as robotic as before, it was worse. His voice cracked painfully on his words and Mark could hear the strain in it as the other boy held back tears. _"I- It's okay. I just needed to tell someone, ya'know? She deserves to be remembered by more than just me."_

Mark felt his heart split in two. "Where are you right now?"

 _"At home. My sister's organizing the funeral as we speak. She'll be fucking relieved that it's all over."_ Jack said quietly, bitterness edging into his voice.

Mark had no idea what to say to that and so the silence stretched on with only the steady sound of soft breathing to be heard on either end. The half Korean's mind raced, trying to think of something, anything, that might make the situation even slightly better. Nothing came to mind and awkwardness began to mix into the sadness that currently filled Mark's every thought.

He didn't really know that woman properly. He'd spent such a short amount of time with her that he really shouldn't care at all. But all the same, in the tiny amount of time he knew her, he got to see just a sliver of the light that she gave to other people's lives everyday. Mark knew Jack must be devastated, the thought of the other boy loosing his mom making him feel empty and sick.

It wasn't fair. Jack didn't deserve this.

 _"Look, I- uh I'm sorry for bothering you. I'll just go."_ Jack said quietly, breaking the silence like it was a very fine glass. And Mark jumped, nearly giving both himself and Jack a miniature heart attack with his high pitched yelp of 'No! Wait!'

Jack didn't answer but he didn't end the call either. He just kind of sat at the other side of the phone call, patiently waiting for Mark to say his piece. If this was a movie Mark would know exactly what to say to make Jack feel better, make him feel like there was something to look forward to in the world.

But this isn't a movie and Mark didn't have a fucking clue. So he just did what he normally did. Opened his mouth and prayed that something helpful would come out eventually.

"Jack...Do you want me to come over?" Mark asked, completely out of the blue. That was definitely not what he was expecting but fuck, he couldn't stand the thought of Jack sitting in his house, so desperate to talk to someone that he actually picked up the phone and called Mark. Somehow Mark couldn't imagine the decision had been well thought through at all, an impulsive action on the Irishman's part. But Mark hated to think about what Jack might do if he was left alone.

There came a muffled sound from the other end of the phone. Was Jack crying?

 _"No. It's alright."_ Came the reply, far too quiet and broken for Mark to take it seriously.

Mark ran a hand through his dark locks with a sigh. "Jack, I'm your friend and you sound like you need a friend right now. So just tell me your address and I'll get there as soon as I can. Please, I want to help."

Suddenly dark, dry laughter rattled down the phone line, no humor behind it. _"No, Mark. You stay right where you are with all your fucking family and your perfect fucking life that I just had to waltz in and ruin for you. I don't want to be a bother, this phone call was a stupid idea anyway."_ Jack didn't sound sad or beaten down anymore, he sounded angry.

It wasn't the loud and shouting kind of angry either. It was the special brand of pure rage reserved for when a loved one dies and you're left behind to bear the pain. This was the anger that made your voice go quiet and your words shake with rage. Jack was beyond angry, sour words dripping from his lips like poison.

"Jack, if you don't tell me I'll find out from someone who knows, okay? Please, listen to me. I just don't want you to be left alone." Mark said, worry drowning his words and filling his mind as he heard bottles clinking in the background of the call.

 _"Fuck off, Mark, I don't need none of your pity."_ Jack muttered harshly into the phone. _"And I'm not alone! I've got my sister and her boyfriend downstairs. If I wanted company then I'd just go talk to them."_

Mark sighed. "It's not pity! I'm worried about you! And for fuck's sake, Jack, if they're such good fucking company why the hell did you have to call me?!" Mark's voice had risen a little, unable to help himself in his desperation.

There was another elongated silence and for a few seconds Mark thought the green haired boy had hung up on him, but no, he was still there, his quiet breaths the only indication he hadn't given up just yet. Then he spoke, voice back to a quiet subdued tone.

_"Because I'm a fucking idiot."_

Mark opened his mouth to respond but no sound came out as he was greeted with complete silence.

Jack was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gawd idk if that was a lil bit rushed or not but anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	21. The History Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn a bit more and there's more talking involved

Jack P.O.V

At first Jack thought it was just bad parenting.

He was only 11 years old when he began to notice his ma changing, and to be honest the changes were so small he almost didn't think of it. To his young mind she was just getting old, misplacing her keys and phone constantly, forgetting the names of people, places and sometimes asking him the same question maybe 3 or 4 times in the same day. Frankly he found it annoying, but he loved her too much to tell her.

Megan was 17 at the time but she didn't notice anything either. That was mostly due to the fact that she'd moved out of their house after an explosive argument with their Ma about her latest in a long line of boyfriends. Ma didn't approve, she thought that the young Irish lad drank too much to be worthy of her daughter but Megan claimed it was love and therefore she wasn't around to see her mother's slow descent into an illness that would follow her around for the rest of her life. But Jack was there. He saw it all.

The first time he really noticed something was wrong was when his Ma forgot about his 12th birthday.

He woke up early that Tuesday morning, filled with the childish excitement that came hand in hand with becoming a year older, especially when it came to _his_ family. You see, birthdays were special occasions in the McLoughlin household and Samantha enjoyed spoiling her children rotten when they came around. It was mostly to make up for the fact that her relationship with their dad was so messy and that she barely got to spend any time with them because of her work but Jack didn't really mind, he still looked up to her as his hero.

So when he found no present at the end of his bed, no smiling mother to be seen and no pancakes freshly cooked for breakfast, he had never felt such disappointment in his entire life. His, now 12 year old, self dragged his feet as he entered his ma's bedroom to find her snoring quietly, still completely dressed in her nurse's uniform with an empty mug of coffee held limply in one hand and an open book in the other.

He had poked her softly, not wanting to scare her and she woke herself with a little groan and a wrinkle of her nose, a sleepy smile on her face when she realized it was her little blue eyed son standing beside her bed. She drew a hand through her wild curls before a loud yawn ripped through her. "Aww hey Jack, you okay? Didn't have a nightmare, did you?"

"It's my birthday Ma! I'm 12 today! Did you forget?" He'd asked quietly. He'd felt so dejected and he knew it showed on his face.

She'd looked so fucking horrified at herself that Jack immediately regretted mentioning it at all. Sam had brought her hand up to her mouth, eyes wide and fully awake now before she slowly climbed out of bed, placing her hands on her son's shoulders. She still had that mortified look on her face when she calmly told him to sleep while she made some breakfast. Jack watched his Ma walk into the bathroom and heard the lock slide shut behind her as he snuggled up in her bed. He had felt so guilty for leaving his mother looking so panicked.  
Jack soon forgot all about the incident, putting it down to his mother getting old. Megan moved back into their house for a couple of months after her last boyfriend cheated on her and she was accepted back with open arms. Jack was happy for those few months, enjoying the feeling of waking up and having his sister there to laugh and joke with before he had to run to school; celebrating Christmas with his whole family and not just half of it. Their Ma still barely got to spent time with either of them but at least Jack wasn't alone all the time. It was nice for a while.

Sadly though, things quickly turned sour and Megan and Sam began to fight again, loud and angry screaming carrying through Jack's bedroom door almost every night. Megan was sad all the time and Jack didn't understand why. His Ma said that her old boyfriend treated her really badly and that this was the result but Jack couldn't understand why Megan didn't smile anymore or why she never wanted to talk to him. It hurt him so badly to see her like that but having no idea how to help her.

The fights between Megan and their Ma suddenly became more and more heated.

Megan had got herself a new fella except this one was all the way over in America. His name was Jason, she used to tell him with a massive smile on her face as he made his breakfast before school; he was everything she had ever dreamed for in a man, funny, kind and handsome all in one. Jack was just happy to see her smiling again.

But the problem was that this 'Jason' wanted Megan to come live with him in his apartment in America, and their Ma not only disapproved of the man himself but she couldn't stand the thought of her baby going so far away. But Megan didn't didn't seem to give a shit and she left not long after.

Jack's Ma couldn't sleep anymore, constantly waking Jack up when she switched on the lights to make a cup of tea at 3am in the morning. When he asked her about it she told him she was just having nightmares but Jack, only 13 at the time, was getting more and more worried, dark shadows appearing underneath his Ma's bright blue eyes. Jack began to wonder if she slept at all.

He eventually convinced her, after nearly a month of watching her drive herself into the ground, to go to a doctor, even though she continuously protested that nothing was wrong.

Jack wasn't allowed to hear what the doctor said, he waited outside the room, twiddling his thumbs until his Ma came out looking a little pale but reasonably okay. When they reached the car she explained to him that she had something called 'Insomnia' which meant she found it difficult to sleep. The doctor did give her some sleeping pills though, so Jack felt like the whole situation was resolved and for a while it was, until it wasn't.

He was around 15 when he woke up in the middle of the night to find his Ma standing at the side of his bed, shaking him gently. He'd groaned and grumbled a little at the early wake up call but it was what she said to him that made his blood run cold.

"Jack? Jack. I ca- I can't remember the way to my room, please wake up, I really want to go to sleep. Please." She sounded a little drowsy but Jack didn't miss the panic in her voice, the terror of not knowing where she was.

And that was only the first incident. Sometimes a relative or friend would come to visit and his Ma would look at them in complete confusion, wondering why a stranger was in their house until Jack explained to her who they were. There were a few incidents where she meant to drive herself to work but ended up somewhere completely different and having no idea how she got there. Jack couldn't count the amount of phone calls he got in the middle of class with his mother in a blind panic, crying quietly as she muttered that she had no idea where she was.

It shattered Jack's heart to see her that way.

Even though her son insisted she should go to the doctor she refused, becoming irritable and bitter, sometimes even scared any time he even brought the subject up. One time she got so annoyed that she threatened to kick him out, her eyes burning and her finger pointed towards the door.

Jack shut up about the doctor after that.

By the time he was 16 he was working at the local supermarket to try and keep them afloat. His Ma hadn't been going to work at the hospital ever since her friends there had began worrying about her, constantly asking her if she was alright and if she was getting enough sleep. Something Jack knew she wasn't.

She kept forgetting to take her pills no matter how much Jack tried to remind her and so he was now so used to the 5am wake up call of the lights in the kitchen switching on and the sound of the kettle boiling that he sometimes just got out of bed and joined her. They would just sit at the kitchen table, silently sipping their hot drinks until Jack had to go get ready for school or his Ma decided she might try and sleep for a while.

Life just went on.

Jack became almost his mother's carer. He didn't trust her when she said she could cook herself dinner or breakfast so he became the cook of the household, making sure his Ma had eaten and taken her pills before he left for work. She was bed ridden as every attempt she made to stand resulted in her legs collapsing from under her not long after and so Jack began to help her to do more basic tasks such as helping her to the bathroom and such. It was strange but it made her life easier so Jack didn't care.

He didn't really have any friends, it was more a case of he didn't have time for any. His social life was as good as dead but at the time he didn't particularly care. This was his Ma, he was the only one she had left and he loved her more than anything.

He looked at her with so much love but this wasn't that ridiculous kind of adoration that works as a fucking Snapchat filter and wipes all of her flaws away from Jack's sight. No. Jack still found her stubbornness not to see a doctor annoying and he still hated the fact that he couldn't leave her alone in the house; instead being forced to skip large chunks of school to look after her and make sure she was safe, but she was still his ma and he loved her.

Jack was 17 years old when he dyed his hair bright green.

Honestly he dyed his hair for multiple reasons but one of the main ones was that he just wanted something, anything, to change. His life had just gone into a ridiculously mundane spiral of the same activities. Wake up. Help Ma get dressed. Make breakfast. Make sure Ma eats. Go to school. Skip half of school to go home and cook dinner. Help Ma eat and take her sleeping pills. Put her to bed, go to work. Come back from work. Study. Go to sleep. Repeat.

At least his Ma liked the bright color, she smiled extra bright when she saw him now because of the neon green he had chosen. She was speaking differently now, like a child. She had periods of complete confusion, unable to tell Jack where she was or who she was or what she was doing here. He had no idea what to do. He wanted to call a doctor so badly but every time he so much as reached for the phone his Ma would let out another quiet whimper and he would freeze. It was fucking torture to drag his hand away from that phone. But he did it, for her.

It was just a few months afterward the hair dye that Jack's uncle Damien came to visit. It was a special Christmas visit. The one time he ever bothered to come and see what his sister had done with her life, he was horrified at what he found. That had been the first time Sam had ever had a hallucination. And safe to say is scared him half to death when she started shouting at him like he was some sort of murderer. Damien thought she was insane.

No matter what Jack did he couldn't stop his much taller and much stronger relative from calling an ambulance. Jack had felt like such a failure when he listened to his mother's screams when the paramedics came in. He knew he'd started crying, big, fat, ugly tears streaking down his cheeks as he suffered through the sounds of sirens wailing and his mother calling his name while she was dragged away, kicking and screaming. That was the moment something deep inside him snapped like a twig.

He was so useless, she said no doctors and he couldn't even give her that peace.

It had hurt so badly that he was such a ginormous fuck up. Just look at him, spending Christmas day crying on his own. He should've been able to cope with it all, but it was like everything just fell on his shoulders at once. All the pain, all the exhaustion, the emotional strain over flowing and tearing him apart from the inside out.

He fucking hated crying.

Jack stayed with his uncle for a few months after but he barely spoke to the other man, unable to forgive him for what had happened. His mother was taken into hospital and diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease at the ridiculously young age of 39. When the doctors told Jack the diagnosis he'd felt like the world had been ripped out from under him. It wasn't fair, what had she done to deserve any of it?

Maybe if Jack had called the doctor sooner there may have been more they could've done, the doctors had told him, but in the state she was currently in she would need to be sent to a home where there would be people to help her and look after her while Jack wasn't around.

They encouraged him to join clubs, sports teams and all sorts of other crap because apparently it would help him 'feel like a child again' and 'make new friends'. Jack refused to even try and instead simply asked that any more news on his mother's condition would be immediately forwarded to him and then left the hospital feeling like a child who had dropped their ice cream.

Jack hated the home his mother was put in, it was absolute bullshit and even the people who worked there knew it. That shit hole could barely be described as clean and the people there hated their jobs and hated the people they worked with, it showed. None of those people were anywhere close to Felix in the way they looked after Jack's mother.

Speaking of Felix. It was slap bang in the middle of summer when Jack was told his mother was to be sent to a home in America where they had a more extensive treatment for Alzheimer's disease and that there was still hope her condition could become a little more stable if they sent her over there.

Jack agreed immediately, booking himself a flight to America with his Uncle's money and flying over to America, indulging in the dumb luck that came with his sister and her boyfriend living in the same town as the home his Ma was being sent to.

And I guess the rest is history, but saying that, I should probably just get back to the present.

***

Jack was done.

He was so fucking incredibly done that he had given up trying to drown his sorrows in drink about 10 minutes ago. Still, his mind was all fuzzy from the alcohol he'd consumed, bottles of beer surrounding him as he sat on the floor of his bedroom with his back to the wall. He was more tipsy than anything else, the beer making his blood run hot in his veins.

He'd raided underneath Jason's bed for the booze, finding not only beer but a half empty bottle of whiskey, the bottle was empty by now. Jack took it all to his room while Jason and his sister sat downstairs, on the phone with a funeral director. Jack felt a flare of anger burst into life in his chest. She never went to fucking visit Ma when she was alive, why the fuck did she bother caring about her now that she was dead?

Jack knew he was being unfair towards his sister but he couldn't find it in his heart to care. She was supposed to go and visit their Ma while he was away at school and she fucking didn't. She lied to him. She should've been there. She might've been able to stop it. But she wasn't and she didn't. So fuck her.

Mind you, it was Jack's fault for going to school in the first place. He shouldn't have been so fucking gullible. He wasn't a child, he should've known what was coming and stayed with her because maybe if he'd been with her it would never have happened.

Now, if Jack were an actor in the latest blockbuster movie he'd probably be crying his eyes out right now, maybe shouting at the skies in fury or perhaps looking at some old pictures of her, back when she was younger, healthier and more beautiful than when she finally kicked the bucket.

But Jack didn't want to do any of that shit.

All he wanted was to make the world stop. Make everything stop.

Because he had nothing without his mother to look after. Caring for her was all he had ever really known. Jack had built his life up around her, everything he had done ever since he was a child had been for her benefit. He'd dedicated his childhood to looking after her and now she was gone.

It was all for nothing.

She'd left him stranded in a house he wasn't welcome, a town full of people he despised and a foreign country that he couldn't possibly survive in. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? He had no fucking reason to stay in this god awful place. But all the same, where the fuck could he go? He had no one back in Ireland who really gave a shit about him and hell there was a grand total of two people in America who actually gave a shit about him and hell, those two would be gone soon.

Anyway, he had absolutely no fucking money so hey, he might as well just sit here and drink his sorrows away like the disgustingly weak excuse for a human being he was.

He couldn't help but feel angry about it all. It was at tightly spun coil of pure rage in his stomach and he didn't even know who he was so angry at.

He could blame it all on his sister and her boyfriend. He could shout curses down the phone at Mark Fischbach and try to pretend that it was all everybody else's fault but in all honesty. It was him. It was all his fault, all of it. He was the one who fucked up and he was the real reason that his mother couldn't be treated sooner. Fuck he was such a coward, unable to go against his ma's will to get her the help she needed.

Suddenly Jack's self depreciating train of thought was broken at the sound of the doorbell ringing.

He jumped at the noise, bottles clinking around him as he attempted to stand up in the dim lighting of his bedroom. Everything seemed to be spinning but that might be just because he got up so fast, pulling his door open roughly, slamming it against the wall in his haste. The bright lights of the hallways made him hiss as his eyes tried to adjust to the sharp change of lighting but Jack continued on, reaching the top of the stairs before he heard it.

Jason was talking.

"I don't want none of your bullshit, get the fuck outta here, this is a time for family. Fuck off." He spat in a low growl that was obviously supposed to be threatening.

"I'm sorry but I promised Jack I'd come over so would you be so kind as to move your fat ass out of my way." That was...Mark? What was Mark- Oh yeah, didn't he say he was going to come over or something? Jack wasn't expecting him to actually do it. Shit Jason was going to go fucking insane.

Looking down Jack could just about see the back of Jason's blonde head, noticing the way the older man's neck was now a rosy pink which probably didn't bode well for Mark.

"I remember you from the police station, faggot. Go running home before I call the cops." Jason said and Jack could imagine the glowering scowl that was overshadowing his face right now. That was the look he gave Jack when said something he disapproved of and what followed was normally a punch to the face. It crossed the Irishman's mind that he should probably do something before the blonde man's fist met Mark's face.

"Mark?" He called out, not particularly sure how that was supposed to help the situation but proud of how steady his voice sounded despite the way his tongue felt like it was made of lead.

Then he heard Mark answer, loud and clear. "Comin' Jack. I'll be there in a second."

Jack watched as Jason's blonde head was suddenly pushed roughly aside in favor of Mark's head of dark locks coming into view, soon followed by the sound of feet thundering up the stairs. Jack suddenly realized how weird he looked right now, just sitting at the top of the stairs almost as though he'd been waiting for Mark to arrive this whole time. He had half a mind to stand up and make his way into his bedroom just to save himself the humiliation of looking so needy, but fuck, he didn't have the energy to pull himself up.

He heard the footsteps halt just in front of him and Jack looked up to find a slightly disheveled looking Mark Fischbach staring down at him with worry filling his eyes. "Are you alright, Jack?" He asked quietly, assessing the green haired boy's condition with warm brown eyes that looked almost black in the shadows. Jack couldn't find it in himself to answer.

The next thing he knew he was being scooped up off the floor by strong arms, his face nestled into Mark's shoulder as he was carried down the hallway, Mark opening the doors along the corridor to try and find Jack's room.

When he finally opened the correct door he slowly walked in, Jack still clinging to him like a monkey as he switched on the light revealing the mess of beer bottles that scattered the floor. Jack hid his face from the sight, refusing to look at his shame. He couldn't believe he was allowing Mark to see this, to see him at his lowest. Why was he letting this happen? Why did he trust Mark so goddamned much?

Mark didn't say anything as he looked over the bottles, instead he just walked over to Jack's bed and laid him down in it before closing the door quietly behind them. Jack could hear Jason and Megan talking through the thin walls and he felt his heart break a little more. Megan actually sounded scared.

Jack watched as the dark haired boy moved around the room, picking up the empty bottles and setting them out of the way before sitting down on Jack's bed again and releasing a low sigh, looking down at the other boy with concern.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, noting how the question made Jack freeze.

How the fuck was he supposed to answer that?

Thinking about it, Jack had no idea how he was feeling. He'd been trying not to think about it but only now that he was asked did he feel the grief that burned like acid through every fiber of his being. He was so fucking alone. He had no one except the boy in front of him and, lets be honest he'd be fucking off soon. Jack really had no real reason to keep on living. After all, what did he have to live for?

His sister had Jason, she'd be fine without him. Mark wouldn't be in any trouble with his parents anymore and his life would go on. He'd probably become some sort of big shot CEO with a loving wife and kids, living the true apple pie life because if Jack wasn't there his life would run like clockwork. Jack was the spanner in the works that screwed it all up.

He didn't realize he was crying until he felt Mark's thumb brush a tear away from his cheek. Jack jumped a little at the unexpected contact but Mark didn't say anything, he just had a look of firm determination on his face, frowning when Jack ducked his head down, not wanting to look at those brown eyes. He'd ruined this guy's life, he shouldn't be allowed to look him in the eye.

Jack was crying ridiculously hard, his whole body jolting with his pitiful sobs. "You shouldn't be here." He finally choked out, his voice thick as he spoke through his tears.

"I think I should." Mark whispered and Jack was surprised to feel the taller boy's arms pull him into a tight hug that knocked all the breath out of his body. It felt amazingly safe there, snuggled up into the other boy's warm body. He could've stayed there forever.

Mark pulled away gently, placing a finger under the smaller boy's chin to coax him into looking at him. Now, Jack knew he was one ugly ass crier, lets just clear that up right now. He was certainly no goddamned model. His face was bright red and puffy and he knew that the tears spilling from his blue eyes were staining his cheeks, his eyes large and bloodshot.

Mark didn't seem to care though, keeping firm eye contact with him as he spoke. "Don't be ashamed of crying. Let it out." He said softly.

Now, had it been any other situation Jack would've laughed at the cliche line. But weirdly enough it was like he was waiting for permission. He wrapped his arms around the other boy, sobbing loudly into his shoulder. He knew he was getting the dark haired boy's shirt wet with both tears and snot but once again Mark didn't seem to give a single fuck instead keeping him close until his broken cries were reduced to tiny whimpers.

When he looked up at Mark it was to see the other boy with a small smile dancing on his lips. "There. Feeling a bit better?"

Jack found himself nodding without even thinking about it and to be honest, it was true. Good god did it feel good to just cry, without needing to understand what in his fucked up, unfair life was making him so upset and just let it all out.

"Mark, why are you here? I was such a dick to you on the phone. I don't understand why you'd want to help me after that." Jack muttered, feeling guilt twist his stomach in knots.

The dark haired boy let out a quiet laugh. "Are you serious? Do you really think I'd hold that against you when your mom-" He cut himself off, uncertainty flooding his features along with a tinge of fear.

Jack let his mouth twitch up in the ghost of a smile. "It's alright, you can say it. She's dead. Not like it's a touchy subject or anything, I was expecting it. Maybe not as soon but, she wasn't eating."

Mark looked almost guilty for bringing it up and in that moment Jack took him in, his mind still a little cloudy from the drink he'd consumed. He noted the way Mark's dark hair was just a little bit too long, curling at the ends and framing his face. Jack wondered for a second what it would feel like to run his his hand through it, it looked so soft. Then his eyes trailed down to the other boy's lips, the light dusting of stubble that surrounded them. They looked soft.

"Listen Jack, I really wish you didn't have to go through all this. I swear if there was something I could do to take all of this shit away, I'd do it. I hope you know that, okay?" Mark was talking in a calm, smooth tone and Jack, in his foggy mindset, couldn't help but lean closer to the other boy, wanting to hear more.

"And, I ugh- well I was thinking that if you ever need a place to stay, y'know away from that douchebag down there, your sister's boyfriend; all you have to do is tell me and I'll sneak you into my house where you'll be safe for a night or two. Sound good?" Mark asked almost tentatively. He was acting like Jack was made out of glass and that a single wrong word would shatter him.

Mind you, he had just witnessed Jack crying into his shirt for about ten minutes straight so it's not that much of a surprise.

But the Irishman was looking up at Mark with an expression of wonder on his face. Here was a person who didn't really know his situation, didn't know about the complete and utter turmoil Jack had been in before he arrived and yet, here he was offering Jack a place of refuge in his own home. Never before had the green haired boy felt so cared for. It was incredible.

And yet, reality kicked in.

"I- I wouldn't want to intrude, Mark. I would only be causing you more trouble, your parents hate me. I couldn't do that to you." Jack said sadly, upset at the thought of declining such an offer.

Mark snorted before talking in a firm almost authoritative voice. "I don't care what my parents think. You need to stay somewhere were you're in no danger of getting beaten up, so they can suck it up, your safety is more important."

Jack couldn't believe what he was hearing. Never in his life had anyone said such a thing about him, never had anyone cared enough to take such a risk. His mouth dropped open, unable to comprehend the words.

The Irishman wondered if someone had just covered his eyes in a filter because he could've sworn he was looking at the most perfect man on earth at that moment. He could find no flaws, it was almost like someone had airbrushed him in real life. Something that movie stars only achieved with layers of makeup and hairspray, Mark managed to pull off in the harsh light of Jack's bedroom, his head surrounded in a halo of light from the bulb that hung from the room. Beautiful.

Despite everything he still blamed the alcohol that thrummed through his body for what he said next, heart pumping so loud he was sure Mark could hear it and blood rushing deafeningly in his ears.

"I really want to kiss you right now."

And without a second thought Jack leaned up and pressed his lips against Mark's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Shhhhhhhiiiittt this is so late! I'm really really sorry, but here's a really realllyyy long chapter to make up for it.  
> (Btw srry if it's too long, I just kinda started writing and couldn't stop myself.)  
> Also, pls tell me if this is a load of bullshit cause I srsly have no idea. If u have any constructive criticism for me I'd love to hear it :)  
> Anyway I hope you enjoyed this chapter!  
> PS: Happy 4th of July to everyone who celebrates it!! :D


	22. The Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisses and Jason isn't winning any personality contests anytime soon

Jack P.O.V

Jack had no idea what he was doing but _holy fuck_ he didn't want to stop.

Mark let out a surprised noise which disappeared into Jack’s mouth as he leaned further into the kiss and wrapped a hand around the back of the other boy's neck to try and get him closer. In his addled mind Jack couldn't even seem to take into account the fact that Mark wasn't moving and instead moved even closer to the other boy, his eyes sliding shut.

For a few seconds Mark just sat there, awkwardly still with his hands by his side like a stone statue, obviously unsure of what to do. Jack began to pull away, finally realizing something was wrong but suddenly Mark grabbed a handful of his shirt, dragging him back into the amazing feeling of soft lips and rough stubble against his skin.

Despite Mark’s ridged posture the kiss was weirdly relaxed, the green haired boy slowly and almost lazily bringing his other hand from where it rested on the bed to run up Mark’s side and card gently through his thick black hair drawing a quiet noise of surprise from the other boy. Jack could feel the slight buzz from the alcohol he’d drank making him lightheaded.

Jack couldn't breathe but he didn't want to come up for air and face the sharp, cold slap of reality. He just wanted to stay here, with Mark, where his insides felt all cottony and the blissful feeling of calm that wrapped itself around Jack like a blanket, all that fuzzy cliché crap that girls love to gush over in romantic novels. And fuck if he had to die from lack of oxygen to stay in this warm cocoon of safety, then Jack was more than willing to do so.

Sadly he didn't get the opportunity to put his plan into action as there was a deafening crash from downstairs followed by a bout of angry shouting that startled the two apart. Jack's eyes snapped open in shock and he took in the sight of Mark's flustered expression. Jack felt his heart shatter as soon as he saw the wide eyed look of unbridled fear in the other boy's eyes.

It was like someone had emptied a bucket full of ice cold water on his head.

Everything was suddenly crashing down on Jack's shoulders as he finally realized just what the fuck was happening and remembered all the reasons why it shouldn't. For one thing he was absolutely certain he wasn't fucking gay, for another, this was _Mark_ , his _friend_. What in the name of god was he thinking?! You don't kiss your friends! Especially your _male_ friends!

This was fucking disgusting. He was a complete and utter fucking idiot, and do you want to hear the best part?

He wanted to do it again.

Jack wanted nothing more than to lean in and press his mouth to Mark’s all over again and forget about the consequences for his actions. He wanted to feel like no one would hurt him ever again, like he could be himself and no one would judge him for it. He wanted it more than anything and he didn’t care how fleeting the feeling was. It was like an addiction. He didn’t just want it, he _needed_ it.

Mark's face was bright red and the Irishman couldn't help but feel his heart melt as the other boy shoved him away roughly, a look of horror on his face as he wiped his mouth furiously with his sleeve. “W-what the fuck was that?” Mark gasped, shifting further away from the green haired boy and making him feel even worse the guilt eating away at him from the inside out.

The sound of feet pounding up the stairs rivalled with Jack's racing heart as he sat completely frozen in place, lost for words. He wanted to say something though; he wanted to apologize for being the absolute piece of shit he was but when he opened his mouth nothing came out.

The door to his bedroom slammed open to reveal Jason in all his thick, greasy glory, who didn’t hesitate to storm into the room, anger burning in his eyes and his fists clenched tightly.

Jack felt the blood drain from his face when Jason didn’t immediately go for him, instead turning to Mark who had that deer trapped in the headlights look on his face as the taller man towered over him. Then Jason lashed out, a sharp punch aimed at Mark’s stomach that drew a low grunt from the dark haired boy, the blow sending him off the bed and onto the ground with a dull thud.

“Jason! Please stop!” Came a broken plea from the doorway and Jack glanced over to see his sister standing there, both hands covering her mouth in horror and tears streaming down her face but her feet not moving from where she stood.

Her boyfriend rolled his eyes and turned to face her, arms held out. “Why the fuck should I? Not like I’ve got anything to lose, have I?”

Megan bit her lip, shaking her head, tears pouring down her cheeks. “Please, this has nothing to do with them.” She whispered, her voice cracking on her words.

Jason made no indication that he’d heard her, turning to Jack with an almost unhinged look in his eyes; breathing heavily as he pointed a finger at Mark’s curled up form, fury burning like fire in his every word. “I will not have a pair of faggots in my house!” He practically screamed, moving closer and getting up in Jack’s face, spit flying from his mouth and landing on the boy’s face.

Jack didn’t miss the way Jason turned to Megan for a second and flashed her a smile before going back to Jack, his putrid breath making Jack wrinkle his nose in disgust. “Your sister over there seems to think it’d be ok if you and your little boyfriend were fucking up here, but I’m gonna teach you something right here, right now. I won’t be having none of that shit under my roof. I’m not getting kicked out just because of your disgusting habits. Understood?”

The green haired boy couldn’t speak, he opened his mouth but nothing came out. Jason’s expression twisted into one of rage and he gave the smaller boy a hard punch to the stomach. “I said am I fucking understood!” He yelled right in Jack’s face. Jack couldn’t breathe, the breath completely knocked out of him and leaving him gasping like a fish out of water.

He thought he heard Mark shouting something about the police and Megan yelling something back at him but at that moment there were much more pressing matters at hand.

Jason’s hand suddenly shot out and wrapped itself around Jack’s neck making the simple task of breathing even harder. Jack heard his sister screaming as the blonde tightened his grip on the boy’s throat, lifting him a little off the bed where he sat. He was chocking, tears coming to his eyes as his struggle to breath became harder and harder, the pressure on his windpipe making him feel as though his head was about to explode.

His legs kicked out wildly as black spots danced across his vision and his hands tried weakly to pry away Jason’s grip, desperation making his movements uncoordinated and jerky.

“You won’t forget this lesson in a hurry.” He heard Jason growl triumphantly in the distance, like he was talking through a tunnel.

Jack gave one last futile tug at the larger man’s hand and suddenly his attacker was gone, Jack falling back down onto his bed taking desperate gulps of air to fill his lungs. He could hear the sounds of a struggle, men grunting with exertion as a fight raged on.

Opening his eyes Jack was greeted to the sight of Mark hitting Jason a sound punch to the jaw and the older man doubling over in pain before lashing out at the shorter boy and catching his exposed left side with his fist.

Jack could see the fight was a close one. What Mark lacked in height he made up for in muscle however that didn’t stop the fact that Jason was both taller and heavier than him with gave the older man a distinct advantage. The fight was getting dirtier by the second, Jason going as far as to actually grab a handful of Mark’s hair and giving it a sharp pull.

Megan was still standing in the doorway, crying even harder than before, her body shaking with the force of her sobs. Jack noticed a cut on her face, it was very thin, almost unnoticeable, but it was still there, tiny beads of blood dripping from the wound.

Jack stood slowly from the bed, his legs unsteady. He watched as Mark was shoved into the wall, Jason holding him there with his forearm against the boy’s neck, pressing down hard. Mark had an expression of determination on his face as he tried to shove the man’s arm off. Suddenly Jason reached into his back pocket, producing a flick knife that made Mark’s eyes widen in horror.

That was when Mark began to panic, his breathing speeding up at the sight of the blade. Jack watched as Mark struggled harder against the taller man but it was all useless. Jason was smiling sickeningly, blood dribbling from his busted nose and falling into his mouth as he placed the knife to Mark’s throat, teasing the fragile skin with the icy metal.

Jason sneered at the younger boy’s expression of fear. “Face it, fag, you can’t win.”

Mark didn’t give him the satisfaction of answering, instead bringing his knee up and hitting the taller man in the crotch, using the few seconds of surprise he had to knock the knife out of the older man’s hand. Jack watched as it skidded across the floorboards and rolled under his bed.

Jason was nothing short of livid not hesitating as he attempted to wrap his thick fingers around Mark’s neck, Mark saw the move coming though, and ducked just in the nick of time. Jason let out a shout of rage as he swung his fist at the shorter boy, the punch connecting with a sickening groan.

Mark was losing.

Jack turned away from the fight, kneeling down to desperately reach under the bed, hand outstretched as he tried to find the knife, the sound of Jason laughing darkly only spurring him on.

Finally his fingers brushed against the cool metal and he carefully felt around for the handle, grasping it tightly and drawing it out into the light. He whirled around to face the brawl again, weapon in hand, but he realised he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.

Jason was showing no mercy, punches raining down on Mark with ridiculous force. Jack came up behind the tall blonde, knife grasped tightly in his right hand.

“Fucking stop it, Jason!” Jack yelled his voice strained and broken from his recent choking incident but still as strong and as loud as he could make it. As the older man turned the boy held up the pen knife threateningly, trying to look like he could use it even though he knew he wouldn’t have the courage.

He was too weak.

The sounds of sirens wailing could be heard filtering through the window, men yelling into radios as the front door shuddered dangerously as heavy boots kicked at it, the wood splintering more with every hit.

Megan was screaming for help but Jack wasn’t looking at her, she wasn’t in any real danger. But this man, this man who had cause him so much fucking pain. He was standing there and Jack had the chance, he could skewer him right now, say it was in self-defence. He realized it at the same time Jason did.

Jason had his narrowed eyes fixed on Jack, apparently unfazed by the police that were currently trying to invade his home. “What are you gonna do with that, Jackaboy? You think you’ve got the balls to do something?”

Jack’s mouth hung open, his answer stuck in his throat.

Jason smirked smugly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You couldn’t do it because that’s the weak fucking coward you are. It’s in your blood. That’s why your daddy left you too; he didn’t wanna deal with the disappointment of raising a faggot like you.”

Jack’s hand was shaking with the white knuckled grip he had on the handle. Jason wanted him to get angry, why? Jack held the power now, he could do it. He could cut him a new one and just leave him there.

The question was, would he?

“ _I’m_ the coward here?” He finally spat, venom dripping from his words. “I’m not the one beating up fucking kids half my age. Who does that except a coward who isn’t strong enough to go out and fight people his own size?”

“Jack, don’t.” Megan murmured from the doorway but Jack didn’t care. This wasn’t her choice.

Suddenly the sound of the front door getting kicked in and men pouring into the house echoed up into the room and Megan was shouting but Jack couldn’t hear her. Jason lunged at him, snatching the knife out of his hand like he wasn’t holding onto it like it was his last shred of humanity.

It was like the world was muted. Everything he heard was muffled and he couldn’t find it in himself to move a muscle as police stormed into the room and realised Jason was armed. A couple of the officers produced guns but everyone was inhumanely still for a few seconds until one particularly brave officer rugby tackled the blonde man to the ground, discarding the knife out of arms reach in just a few seconds.  

Jack didn’t feel anything but a strange numbness as Jason was handcuffed and carried away, past Megan whose eyes were bloodshot from crying. The green haired boy looked around for Mark, unable to find him in the now overcrowded room. Jack began to panic. Was he alright? Was he hurt? Where the fuck did he go?

Finally he spotted him.

The other boy’s face was smeared with blood and his jaw was already swelling, a large pale blue bruise forming there. Mark was talking to a policeman who had a notebook out, obviously writing down what Mark was saying. Jack felt his heart skip a beat when Mark caught him looking but the dark haired boy made no indication he even recognised Jack, looking straight through him as though he were some sort of ghost. It made Jack want to cry like the weak little bitch he was, but he bit down on his lip hard instead, holding the tears back.

 He felt a hand land gently on his shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly. Looking up he saw Megan’s tearstained face looking down at him, a wobbly smile on her face. “It’s gonna be okay, Jack.” She whispered quietly. Jack nodded silently, apparently having forgotten how to speak over the last few minutes. But it was only because his tongue felt like it was made of lead, it wasn’t his fault.

She carefully wrapped her arm around his shoulders, guiding him away from the room full of coppers and downstairs where things would hopefully be a little more peaceful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Updates are gonna be a little bit slower for a while because my wifi's off for a while but I'll try my best to get chapters out as often as possible :) Also, holy shit the response on the last chapter was absolutely amazing! Thankyou so much for all the brilliant comments :D  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)  
> BYEEEE!!!


	23. The Accusation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> written so quickly i think my fingers might fall off

Jack P.O.V

The McLoughlin siblings sat in the small, cramped living room side by side on the ugly old sofa, Jack leaning into his sister as a way of comfort from the current situation.

Admittedly it wasn't all that much better than where they had been, they could still hear the chatter and clamour of the police who swarmed the house like insects, but at least they were left relatively alone for a while.

Jack let his mind wander, trying to think of anything other than what had just happened. For some reason his train of thought landed on his Ma. Nothing depressing or particularly dismal, simply noting the feeling of emptiness somewhere in him that was acting like a black hole, sucking everything else into an immense vacuum of nothingness.

Okay, maybe that was a little dismal but mostly Jack just missed her. He missed the way he could talk and talk and talk to her about anything and everything. He missed the security of knowing that she would be in her room, waiting for him to get home. And as stupid as it sounded, he missed the normality of going to see her every day. Jack just let his mind go in circles, trying to distract himself from everything that was happening.

That is, until a relatively cleaner Mark was lead into the room by a policewoman who said something about keeping all the witnesses together before leaving the room to do whatever it is that police officers do during this kind of investigation.

Mark sat opposite the McLoughlin siblings in the shitty faded armchair, leaning forwards with his clasped hands resting on his knees. He kept his head down, not even bothering to look either of them in the eye. Awkward silence surrounded the group and Jack shifted uncomfortably alongside his sister. Mark was the only one who stayed perfectly still, apparently immune to the choking awkwardness that threatened to swallow Jack whole.

This was all his fault.

He was the one who fucked up.

Suddenly the silence was shattered by Megan, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke. "I- I want to thank you." She began softly. "For what you did...I-"

Mark cut her off before she could continue. He was looking her right in the eyes now, completely ignoring Jack's existence and instead focusing his gaze on her. "No, I don't want any of your thank yous. I only did what you couldn't do." He sounded irritated, almost angry and Megan looked as shocked at his tone as Jack felt. What the fuck?

"I- I'm sorry, I don't-" She stuttered in confusion only to be once again cut off with Mark's bitter laughter.

"Oh fuck off." He scoffed. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. I'm talking about all those times that bastard was attacking Jack and you just stood by and did absolutely fucking nothing." His words held a vicious bite in them that Jack had never heard before. In fact, he had never seen Mark so incredibly pissed.

Jack shook his head defiantly at the accusation, opening his mouth to speak for the first time since Jason was taken away in the back of a police car. "Mark, she didn't know. I never told her. It's not her fault, alright? It's mine. I should've said something." The green haired boy hung his head a little, guilt weighing him down.

But Mark wasn't having any of it.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now? Jack, you might think you're fooling everyone when you say shit like 'I fell down the stairs' or whatever, but come on. Excuses only get you so fucking far."

Jack was alarmed to feel his sister shaking beside him, her face hidden in her hands. Jack didn't need to look to know she was crying. Anger twisted his features as he placed a hand on his sister's back to try and comfort her.

"Mark, why are you doing this right now? Leave her alone! She didn't know!" Jack defended his sister but Mark only rolled his eyes

"No, I won't fucking leave her alone." Mark persisted, his tone ice cold and hard as rock. "I want to know what kind of fucked up human being you have to be to see the bruises on your little brother's face and fucking ignore it. I want her to explain to me what it felt like to listen to you getting the shit kicked out of you and for her to just turn a blind fucking eye. I want to understand how she can just sit there with a straight face and say nothing when she knew all along and didn't even try to help."

Mark did nothing to disguise the pure fury he was feeling, the blatant outrage and disgust in his words showing no mercy. His face completely expressionless as he looked across at the girl who was crying freely now, her shoulders wracked with every sob.

Jack was silent for a few seconds, staring wide eyed at Mark who didn't even do him the comfort of looking him in the eyes. Disbelief coloured Jack's voice as he turned to his sister, voice soft. "H-he's lying, right? You didn't know, did you?"

Megan's dark hair cloaked her face, a hand coming up to wipe her eyes and nose before looking at her little brother with pleading bloodshot eyes. "Jack, I- I'm sorry. I was just so fucking sc-scared and I-" She paused, looking down at the floor as salty tears dripped from her cheeks and onto the wood below. "I didn't want him to st-start on me if I said something, alright?" She whispered brokenly to the ground because she didn't have the guts to look her little brother in the face. "Yeah, I heard it sometimes, saw your bruises after, but what could I do? I w-would do nothing only make it worse." 

Jack's brain could comprehend what was happening. It was too much too soon. Why was everything he had going down the drain all at once? It wasn't fair. None of it.

But when had life ever been fair to him?

Jack wanted to be angry, he really did. He wanted to feel adrenaline rush through his veins as he screamed out his feelings and threw furniture around recklessly. He wanted that little spark to ignite in him again and start a blazing fire of pure rage. You have no idea how desperately he wanted that release, just to feel alive.

But he couldn't do it.

It was all locked up behind a wall of hurt and pain built from the knowledge that she’d known all along and done nothing to stop it. Maybe if she had tried, done something as simple as help him up when it was over it wouldn’t feel like such slap in the face. But she feigned ignorance and he had to pick himself up after all was said and done because, as always, she wasn’t there. And that fucking hurt.

All he could do was sit there in silence while his sister cried her eyes out, her hands coming up to cover her face in shame.

'Good.' A dark voice in the back of Jack's head muttered. 'She _should_ be ashamed.'

"J-Jack, you never said anything. I thought you could deal with it. I'm sorry, I thought if it was too rough for you you'd come to me." She defended herself weakly, her voice strained through her tears. "And you never did. So I kept quiet, everything was normal."

Mark looked livid, he was practically shaking, his hands closed into tight fists, the knuckles bright red and bruised, the skin split in some places. They looked painful but he didn't seem to care. "Of course he never said anything, you fucking idiot! It's your goddamned responsibility as his family to protect him from this kind of bullshit but you just sat by and watched because you were too fucking worried about your own ass!"

Megan suddenly looked up, cold hard anger in her features and a challenge in her watery eyes as she glared up at Mark who was nearly jumping out of his seat in his rage. "You know nothing about me."

"Oh really? I know you're a spineless little bitch who would rather let her brother get the shit kicked outta him than see herself without a relationship. Well I've got news for you. There's more important things than-"

"It's not like that!" Megan argued heatedly, her tears forgotten in the midst of the argument. "It was never like that! I tried to kick him out today, just look what fucking happened!"

Mark's retort was a furious roar, his eyes blazing with anger. "Don’t you get it? You were too fucking late! What were you expecting? That he would just walk out the door like-"

"Mark!"

Jack half screamed the name, unable to take the onslaught of shouting anymore. Two pairs of eyes fell on him, full of surprise. Jack knew he must look fucking ridiculous, staring at the floor with his hands buried in his faded green hair like he was ready to tear it out in his torment.

When he looked up at the two he knew he had tears in his red rimmed eyes but he fought to keep them there, feeling his throat beginning to close as those droplets of weakness threatened to fall and revel to the world the fucking pansy he was. Again.

"Please, just stop." He finished, his voice breaking in a way he hated more than anything.

A deadly silence hung in the air but Jack had no intention of breaking it, he had nothing left to say. He stood slowly from the couch, fighting back the waterworks as he did so.

Suddenly he felt a hand wrap around his wrist, his sister looking up at him, begging for forgiveness. But he shook her off, biting down on his wobbling lip hard as he walked through the door, past a police officer and out the broken front door.

It wasn't until the icy cold air of night hit him that he allowed the tears to flow.

***

Now that he was walking down the street, furiously swiping at the tears that tumbled down his face, Jack felt the anger bubbling in his stomach, the wall inside him crashing down to make way for a wave of burning hatred that filled his body in seconds. His hands tightened into fists, his breath coming out in pants and his blood rushing loud in his ears.

How could she betray him like this? Was this the same person who he grew up with? If it was, he couldn’t recognise her anymore. The Megan he remembered would never do such a thing out of selfishness, but then again, maybe in the right circumstances, she would. And that was a depressing thought if there ever was one.

It took an embarrassingly long time for Jack to realise he was being followed, the quiet footsteps treading lightly on the pavement behind him. He took a deep breath, turning to see Mark a few paces away, hands shoved in his pockets with his gaze fixed to the floor. His mop of dark hair was a mess, all fluffed up at the back and sticking straight up at the front. In any other situation the comical hairstyle would’ve made Jack crack a smile but the blood smeared across the other boy’s shirt collar quickly discarded the thought.

When Jack stopped walking Mark did too. He didn’t look up from the ground to meet the green haired boy’s eyes; he just stood there in complete silence, waiting for Jack to speak

“Why the fuck are you following me?” The green haired boy bit out, once again reaching up with his sleeve to wipe away the tears that were still falling in a frustrating stream down his face. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage as it is?”

Mark met his bloodshot gaze steadily, his mouth turned down in a frown. Jack couldn’t help but notice that Mark’s lip was split, the broken skin swelling a little with crusted blood surrounding the opening. “Look, I’m sorry. But you deserved to know.”

Jack snorted, a hand coming up to run through his mess of faded green hair. “Don’t you think you could’ve fucking waited? Or did you somehow think I did’t have enough bullshit on my plate without adding all this?”

Mark sighed quietly, sliding his hands out of his pockets and fidgeting nervously with his sleeve as he thought of an answer. He did that a lot, Jack noted absentmindedly. A nervous habit of his.

“I was just so…angry.” Mark finally murmured, dropping Jack’s gaze to guiltily look at the pavement at his feet. “I couldn’t believe that she could just stand by and let him hit you. It made me sick to even think about it.”

Jack glared at him although there was no real heat behind it. It wasn’t Mark’s fault, he just wanted to help. “How the fuck did you know anyway? You don’t know my family.”

This time Mark just shrugged, letting himself meet Jack’s eyes again as he fiddled with the loose thread coming out from his shirt. “I don’t know. It just occurred to me, I mean, how could she _not_ notice? I notice when my little sister so much as gets a paper cut.”

Mark took a second, as though contemplating his next words carefully. “At first I thought she just didn’t care about you or something, you never said much about her so I just assumed. I saw her stand there while you were being strangled by that blonde bastard and I thought that I was right because if I wasn’t there you’d be dead, Jack. She was just gonna wait until her boyfriend choked you to death and then cry about it later.”

Jack felt Mark’s words stoke the anger that burned inside him, feeding the beast that couldn’t wait to burst out and make the Irishman do something he would later regret. He felt like a wounded animal; all he wanted to do was lash out at the world for all the bullshit he was being dragged through. But that would be a bad idea, no matter how appealing it looked.

“But then I saw her cuddling up to you and I- I was so fucking angry after fighting Jason that I had to go open my big mouth.” Mark went to bite his lip but immediately stopped the action when he remembered his injury. “I’m sorry I’ve screwed everything up for you even more but I just couldn’t stand the thought of her acting like she never knew. It was disgusting.”

Jack let out a low sigh, a hand dragging through his hair. “You didn’t screw everything up, Mark. I just have a fucked up life and I’m sorry you were dragged into it.”

Mark shrugged. “At the end of the day it was my choice and I would do it again, you know. No matter what or my friends or my parents or anyone else says, I’m really glad I got to be your friend.”

Jack let a small smile tug at the side of his mouth, looking down at the pavement as a light blush dusted his cheeks. “Yeah, about that, I’m sorry about what happened before…” He trailed off, an almost nervous tone to his voice.

Mark’s eyebrows came together in confusion. “What do you mean ‘before’?”

Embarrassment coloured Jack’s features a pale rosy pink in the cool evening air. It’s safe to say that what few effects of the alcohol he’d been drinking earlier had quickly worn off not long after Jason busted into his room and Jack could still remember exactly how it felt to pull Mark closer, run his hands through that messy black hair and kiss those bitten red lips. He could feel the temptation, even now, to give in and kiss him right here, right now. Even though he knew he couldn’t. Even though he knew it was wrong and disgusting in it's own right.

The thought was still there.

“I mean, I’m sorry I kissed you like that. It was completely inappropriate and I shouldn’t have done it. I was a bit drunk and-”

Mark shrugged, a blush of his own spreading across his cheeks and down his neck to disappear under his collar. “Yeah, it was a bit weird but I get it, you were pretty drunk before I got there, it’s not your fault.”

That wasn’t true but Jack didn’t correct him on it. That would only make this conversation all the more embarrassing. Instead he just nodded silently, unable to find the words to reply.

Then Mark opened his mouth again, looking almost hesitant to say his next words. “I- I never knew you swung that way.”

Jack’s eyes grew comically wide, his mouth dropping open in shock. “I’m not gay!” He exclaimed, rather alarmed at the accusation.

Mark raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “Sure you’re not. You kissed me, another man, on the lips not half an hour ago and you’re gonna stand there and try to tell me you’re not gay?”

“Hey! I thought we’d already established that I didn’t know what I was doing when I kissed you! Plus, if that’s your logic then you’re fucking gay too!” Jack said, his voice high pitched and defensive.

The dark haired boy laughed quietly, rolling his eyes almost playfully. “And how did you work that one out, smartass? _You_ kissed _me_. Therefore _you_ are the one who’s as straight as a roundabout, not me.”

“I was fucking drunk! And I might’ve kissed you first but you’re the one who kissed back!” Jack argued, not realising how close they were to each other, standing just a few inches apart. “Who’s the gay one now?” He asked, a smug smile growing on his features. He knew he’d won.

Mark’s face was flushed bright red, his mouth shutting with a snap of teeth. He became extremely interested in his trainers all of a sudden, eyes studying them with ferocity. Finally he let out a groan of annoyance, admitting defeat. “Fine, you’re not gay. Happy?”

Jack was full on grinning by now. “Very.”

Mark glared playfully at the green haired boy, a tiny smile tugging at the side of his mouth. A comfortable silence stretched out between the two boys, the smiles on their faces speaking for them for a few seconds.

Then Jack’s happy grin turned to a mischievous smirk, a glint in his blue eyes as a thought crossed his mind. “So…am I a good kisser?” He asked, laughing quietly when Mark shoved him gently.

“Why do you wanna know?” The dark haired boy asked, eyebrows raised.

 Jack shrugged nonchalantly. “Just wondering if I need to work on my technique or not.”

Mark snorted at the green haired boy’s innocent expression, shaking his head slightly. “Nah, you were drunk. I’m afraid that doesn’t count in my book, McLoughlin. I can’t assess your kissing prowess unless you’re 100% sober and pulling out all the stops to impress.”

“I’m sober now.”

The words blurted out of Jack’s mouth before he could even attempt to stop them. This time there was no alcohol to blame this shit on; it was just him opening his big mouth without thinking before speaking. What a fucking idiot he was.

Mark was giving him a weird look, only speaking after a few beats of silence. “Are you _sure_ you’re not gay, Jack? I promise I wouldn’t judge you if you were.”

Jack rolled his eyes, giving the other boy a playful punch in the shoulder, making him take a step back. “Shut up, dumbass.” He laughed, purposely ignoring the way his stomach was currently tying itself in knots as he looked at Mark and avoiding the questions that were flooding his already overcrowded mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this cuts of abruptly but I'm going away for 5 days and i really wanted to post something so i've no idea if it makes any sense or if im gonna have to delete it later but here you go! i hope you enjoyed this chapter! BYE!!!


	24. The Night That Went On Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some rather interesting conversations

**Mark’s P.O.V**

“Are you alright back there?”

Mark blinked in surprise at the question, turning his attention from looking out the car window and instead focused on the pair of expectant brown eyes reflected at him in the rear-view mirror.

“I- ugh, sure, I’m fine.” He finally spluttered out, shifting around in the backseat and adjusting his belt, unsure of how he should be acting whilst speaking to a police officer. Of course, he’d done it before, but this felt different, weirdly casual.

He watched as the young police woman nodded, eyes once again fixed on the road which was lit by street lamps and the car’s glaring headlights. It had been hours since darkness fell and Mark could feel the crisp night air nipping at his skin even though he was currently huddled in the backseat of a police car which apparently didn’t do much in the way of shielding him from the cold.

The silence between the two stretched out making Mark all the more thankful that his house wasn’t too far away, even though he was dreading the moment he would have to face his parents with a cut up face in the middle of the night after sneaking out of the house hours ago.

He briefly wondered if anyone had even noticed his absence yet. Then again, Aunt Fletcher had probably called by now and filled his parent’s mind with the story of his horrendous act of disobedience, probably not forgetting to add a few insults against Jack and his family while she was at it. Mark wrinkled his nose in disgust at the thought. He began to play with his shirt sleeve as he thought of the anger on his mother’s face, the badly concealed disappointment that was sure to fill his father’s eyes as soon as he heard the story of how his only son had got himself into, not one, but two fights in less than 24 hours.

This was going to be painful.

“Hey, there’s no need to look so down.” Came a kind Southern accent, breaking the silence that hung thickly in the air and accompanying the brown eyes reappearing, now looking a little concerned for the dark haired teen in the backseat. “You did a good thing today. You should be happy.”

Mark shrugged his shoulders silently, unable to come up with the words to explain his current situation with his parents to a stranger. Mind you, this particular policewoman wasn’t technically a stranger.

Officer Carter, as he now knew to call her, had been on duty the night he and Jack landed in the police station after Ashley’s party. She was the one who looked after Jack in his drugged up state, something Mark couldn’t help but feel grateful for, even though he knew he shouldn’t really care.

However, it just so happened she was also the one who cleaned him up after his boxing match earlier, chatting to him quietly as she did so. She had even thrown in a couple of jokes here and there, despite the fact that at the time he really hadn’t been in the mood. Honestly, Mark couldn’t help but almost cry tears of relief when it was decided she would be the one to leave him home.

At least she was a friendly face before the sea of anger and disapproval that awaited him.

It wasn’t long before they were turning into Mark’s street and stopping outside his house, the engine cutting off only making the silence all the more noticeable. Mark sat fiddling with his sleeve for a little while longer, trying to dredge up words of farewell that were considered appropriate at this moment. Suddenly he noticed Officer Carter had taken her seatbelt off, turning back to give him a comforting smile.

“Would you mind if I came in to have a quick chat with your parents?” She asked, her voice chirpy despite the late hour.

Mark found himself shrugging again, giving her a small smile of his own. “Yeah, sure.” He said quietly, his mind suddenly overflowing with all the possible reasons this woman of the law would want to talk to his parents.

Maybe he’d really fucked up this time and they were thinking of sending him away to prison, or army boot camp or some shit. That couldn’t be it, could it? He was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything _that_ bad. Unless there was some kind of law against fighting that he never heard of? Or had they decided to take him in because of the whole drug thing?

Suddenly there was a knock at the window, making him jump in shock as he was ripped away from his thoughts. Officer Carter was smiling in at him, opening the door with a light laugh.

“C’mon slowcoach, I’m sure your folks are worried sick!”

‘ _I’d doubt it_.’ The dark haired boy thought darkly but he didn’t bother opening his mouth to correct her, instead focusing on unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing out of the car, the icy air making him shiver a little now that he was out in the open. He hugged himself to try and conserve some heat but ultimately failing to protect himself from the biting autumn breeze.

Cautiously, Mark followed the older woman towards the front door, jumping a little when it swung open before the two had even reached the front porch, revealing his mother dressed in her fluffy, pink dressing gown, her eyes widening as they landed on her son’s injuries and the tall, rather intimidating looking police officer that stood beside him in full uniform. He suspected she must’ve spotted the car’s headlights as they drove in and came out to investigate the unexpected disturbance.

“Mark?” Ellen whispered, the look of a deer caught in headlights taking over her face as she ripped her eyes away from the two to take a quick glance of the ghostly silent neighbourhood behind them, checking to see if any of their pompous neighbours had spotted Mark climb out of a police car, no doubt. Her brown eyes snapped back to her son, narrowing in suspicion. “What have you done this time?”

Mark felt the blood drain from his face at the words, his gaze falling to the ground as he felt his mother’s gaze bore into him like burning lasers until he suddenly felt a warm weight on his shoulder.

“Mark hasn’t done anything wrong tonight, Mrs Fischbach. In fact, if you would kindly allow me to explain, I would like to give you a quick rundown of what’s happened and what’s going to happen from here on out.” Officer Carter said firmly, authority radiating off the young woman that made Mark’s mother take a less than subtle step back.

“C’mon in,” she finally blurted out, moving out of the doorway to let the two through. Mark struggled to hold back the sigh of relief that threatened to leave his mouth. So he wasn’t being sent away.

Thank fuck for that.

Officer Carter still had her hand on Mark’s shoulder the dark haired boy noted, the feeling reassuring and surprisingly comforting seeing as it came from someone he had only met twice.

The policewoman carefully steered him into the sitting room where his father was comfortable nestled in an armchair, a newspaper lying open on his lap. The padding of footsteps on the soft carpet made him look up from his reading, eyes widening comically at the sight of the police woman towering over him with his son standing beside her, his clothes stained with dried blood.

“W-what’s happened now?” Allan stuttered, obviously shocked at the unexpected sight. Mark couldn’t look his father in the eyes, instead focusing on the carpet beneath his feet.

Officer Carter sat herself down on the couch and urging Mark down beside her. “That’s what I’m here to explain Mr Fischbach. I’m Officer Carter and I’m very sorry that I have to do this at such a late hour but it’s your right to know what’s going on. I’d also like to ask you and your wife a few questions if you wouldn’t mind.”

Mark’s father nodded slowly, leaning forward in his chair as his wife shuffled her way into the room, taking the seat closest to her husband with a quiet huff. “No problem.”

Mark avoided his parent’s eyes as best he could even though he could feel their glare scalding his skin from across the room. It was strange how guilty he felt in that moment, despite the fact he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Mark, go to your room. The adults are talking.” Ellen ordered, her tone banishing any thought of disobeying. He could hear in her voice all the concealed anger that she was only holding back because of their unexpected visitor. Mark knew for certain that had Officer Carter not decided to come in, he would probably already be kicked out onto the street by now.

But as he rose off the couch he felt a hand on his shoulder once again, this time pushing him back into his seat. “I’m sorry Mrs Fischbach, but I would prefer Mark to be here for this.”

Mark watched as his mother’s face flared up red, a horrendously concealed glare shot at the police woman, who luckily was too busy looking through her small, black notebook to notice. Ellen Fischbach hated to be disobeyed, but to be overruled in her own house was something she certainly wasn’t used to and understandably she rather loathed the feeling.

An awkward silence filled the air as Officer Carter read through her notes carefully while Ellen attempted to set the brunette aflame with nothing more than the power of her stare.

“Alright, I take it you both know of a boy in Mark’s class named Sean McLoughlin, yes?” The police officer inquired finally, the question making Mark’s breath catch in his throat.

While Allan silently nodded, eyebrows drawn together in disapproval, his wife was nowhere near as subtle, instead practically jumping in her seat, a look of triumph on her face. “I knew it!” She blurted out, turning to her husband, something akin to joy spreading across her face. “I told you that this had something to do with that good-for-nothing troublemaker!”

Officer Carter looked rather shocked at the unexpected outburst, her mouth gaping open slightly in surprise although she recovered quickly when she saw the look on Mark’s face. Safe to say he wasn’t too happy with the way his mother reacted. “I’m going to do us both a favor and ignore that comment, but I would greatly appreciate it if you would calm down, Mrs Fischbach.” She said calmly, her face back to the same neutral expression she’d had since she entered the house.

Ellen’s respect for the other woman seemed to be dwindling by the second, or at least, that’s the impression Mark got by the way his mother didn’t even bother to conceal her hatred anymore; instead opting to curl her hands into fists, holding them by her sides as if waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

The air was thick with tension as Officer Carter read over a few more of her notes, apparently blissfully oblivious to the ticking time bomb sitting across the room from her.

“Did you know where Mar-” The police woman began but was quickly cut off.

“Excuse me for interrupting, but I want to know. Was our son caught taking drugs again?” Ellen asked seriously, ignoring the look of disbelief currently plastered on Mark’s face.

“No, Mrs Fischbach h-”

“In that case, skip the questions. Explain the cuts on his face. Explain why my little boy is suddenly getting into fights every other day and going to parties where they serve alcohol. I want you to tell me why he refuses to listen to me when I tell him the McLoughlin boy is dangerous.” Mark’s mother ranted, hands thrown up in the air in her frustration. The dark haired boy was surprised to see tears filling her brown eyes as she spoke. His mom never cried, never. It was one of the things that made her such a formidable force during an argument.

Mark opened his mouth, irritation flooding his system as he made to defend his friend. “Mom, how many times do I have to tell you? Jack’s a good guy. Stop writing him off as if he’s some kind of-”

“You promised me you wouldn’t speak to him again! We gave you every chance to redeem yourself and you discarded it like it was nothing! I got a call from my sister today that only confirmed what I already knew, Mark. That boy has got you wrapped around his little finger and I refuse to pick you up off the ground the day he betrays you and reveals just what a manipulative snake he really is.” Ellen half shouted, looking just about ready to punch something. A something that may or may not be named Mark.

Officer Carter looked between the two, comically resembling someone watching a tennis match as her eyes flicked from one angry individual to the other while Mark’s father silently observed the drama unfold from the safety of his own armchair.

Ellen seemed to realise that they had an audience at the same moment Mark did, her cheeks flushing a rosy shade of pink and the angry look in her eyes turning into mortification. Mark could’ve laughed at the display were his own face not burning brightly with embarrassment. Perhaps this would tarnish his mother’s precious reputation enough that she would keep her head low for a few days.

Mind you, knowing her, I’d doubt it.

“Now, I didn’t want to bring this up right now, Mark, but seeing as you chose not to listen to what we had to say yesterday and went against out wishes, you are old enough to know what you’re doing. You know what happens next.” Allan sighed, sounding much calmer than his wife; but that somehow made it even worse. Because Mark could hear every single note of bitter disappointment in his father’s words, cutting into him like a razor sharp knife.

Mark hung his head in defeat; there was no real point in fighting anymore. In reality, even when he made the promise to stay away, deep down, he knew that no matter what the cost, he couldn’t just leave Jack like that. He knew that his friend needed him and he couldn’t just pass it off like it was nothing.

Somehow, and he had no idea when it happened, Mark had gained Jack’s trust; something he knew the green haired boy didn’t give away often. And for Mark to turn against him and throw it all back in his face – Mark couldn’t bear to see the damage it would do to the other boy, the destruction flattening any semblance of the person Mark knew today. The dark haired boy couldn’t live with himself if he fucked this up.

He had a tiny window into Jack’s life and along with it came the chance to make the other boy’s life a little better, happier. And if it meant Mark had to get kicked out, then so be it.

“Go upstairs, please. We’ll talk more about this when Officer Carter is finished with her questions.” Allan finished quietly, a solemn look replacing his usual smile. Mark stood, feeling his strained muscles complain painfully at the movement. He understood the hidden meaning in his father’s words, ‘Go to your room, and pack some things. You’ll be leaving in the morning.’

The dark haired boy didn’t meet the eyes of the rather confused looking police officer, instead simply turning his back to the adults in the room and quietly walking out, mind buzzing as he tried to come up with some sort of plan for the next few days. Where the fuck was he going to go? Would he have to resort to sleeping in the streets?

He felt weirdly calm about the whole situation now, like he was more prepared for what was coming even though nothing had really changed. If he could find himself a place to crash for a while, just until he could get himself back on his feet. Maybe he’d be able to find himself a job, buy himself an apartment and support himself like the adult he technically was.

And what about going to college? He couldn’t afford to do it right now, but would he save up money to go in the future? What would he do? Perhaps it would be best if he just didn’t bother and instead just finished out high school and make a living out of what he had. If other people could do it, he could too.

But for now, none of that mattered. All he really needed was a roof over his goddamned head; he could worry about all that shit later.

He plodded up the stairs, echoes of conversation wafting up at him through the floorboards before he made it to his room, shutting the tightly behind him and flicking on the light.

Mark’s room was remarkably messy as per usual, but this time his phone was lying abandoned on the bed, reminding him of his previous panic to find Jack’s address in time. The dark haired boy sighed quietly as he sat on the edge of his bed and picked up the device, remembering the desperation that quickened his heart and made his fingers fumble clumsily.

The search for Jack’s address had been stressful to say the least and Mark’s having absolutely no idea where to start really hadn’t helped matters. He’d sat at the edge of his bed, just like he was now, wondering who the fuck would know the green haired boy’s address.

He had seriously been contemplating calling their school and begging for the information when an idea struck him like lightning. His fingers flew across the screen of his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he landed on the person he was looking for. She was Jack’s only friend, barring him. So if she didn’t know it, the school would’ve been his last resort.

Steeling himself up he’d made the call, biting his lip as he waiting, half of him praying she’d pick up and the other half of him curling up into a little ball of despair at the very thought.

But she did pick up, eventually. Her light voice traveling through the phone and making Mark jump from where he sat, already pulling on his jacket, preparing to leave as soon as he got what he wanted.

The start of the conversation had been rushed, with Mark’s words cutting through any attempts the red haired girl made to try and pull him into conversation, her voice surprisingly timid despite her obvious confusion as to why he was even bothering to call her.

But when he finally managed to get his question out between her mindless babbling, he’d wasted at least five precious minutes of his time already. He hated the feeling of a timer continuously counting down the seconds until…until what?

Honestly Mark hadn’t thought that far. And he refused to allow the thought of what Jack might do if he was too late to toy with him as he tried to focus on the task at hand. However, once Ashley finally heard his question it seemed to click in her brain that he needed this information. He needed it _badly_.

But there was something _she_ wanted first.

“Tell you what, Mark. I’ll give you what you want, on one condition.” She’d said slowly, not realising that with every word that left her lips Mark was coming just a little bit closer to slamming the phone down dramatically from nothing but pure frustration.

“Are you fucking serious?! Do I sound like I have time for this shit?” Mark had bit out sharply, his urgency emphasizing every word.

But that was his mistake.

Because in that moment, Ashley knew she had him hooked.

“Well, in that case you should probably listen carefully, shouldn’t you? If you wanna know that is, I can’t imagine why it’s so important though.” She’d said smoothly, her voice making Mark grind his teeth together in agitation. He knew she was smirking her ass off on the other end; her smug tone was enough to confirm that.

“I didn’t think blackmail was your style.”

“I didn’t think being best buds with someone like Sean was yours.” Ashley quipped, light-heartedly. “And it’s not really blackmail, stop being so overdramatic. I just wanna strike a little deal with you, that’s all.”

Mark had sighed, seeing no other option. “Fine, what do you want?”

“I want you to swear to me that you won’t breathe a word about what happened at the party to the police, alright? That’s it. Not like I’m asking you for-” Ashley was cut off as Mark started laughing quietly. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s a bit late for that, Ashley. I’ve already been interviewed by the police.” Mark said, his tone bordering on teasing.

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about?!” The red head practically screeched in his ear making him wince at the unexpected noise. “I swear to god you’d better be joking, Mark, _please_ tell me you’re just fucking around.”

“No, I’m not. They took me in the night of the party. Don’t worry; I didn’t mention your name or anything. Although I wouldn’t be surprised if they eventually link it back to you. It was _your_ party after all.” Mark said calmly before trying to draw the conversation back to his original point. “Now give me the fucking address.”

“Oh my god, seriously? I could out run the cops in fucking stilettos. I mean, I knew you were slow, but I didn’t know you were _that_ slow.” She sighed, in a condensing tone; Mark could almost see her rolling those green eyes.

“Did you tell them about Isaac?” She asked the patronisation in her voice fading and instead making way for borderline panic, practically pleading with him down the phone. “Please, please, tell me you didn’t.”

Mark shrugged even though he knew she couldn’t see him, confusion flooding his features. “I don’t know who the fuck ‘Isaac’ is so no, I guess I-“

“He’s the one who gave me the joint, dumbass.” The red head cut him off quickly.

“Well, not exactly. I gave them a rough description of him but that’s pretty much it.” He said truthfully. “Nothing they could find him with.”

Ashley’s answering groan didn’t do anything to comfort his jangled nerves. “Oh my fucking god, I honestly can’t believe this. You are so fucking stupid holy shit.”

Mark sighed, his annoyance coming through as he felt the minutes tick by, trickling through his fingers like sand. “Address. Now.” He growled.

Complete silence, only broken by the soft sound of breathing.

“Fine. Whatever, I’ll text it to you. I hope you and your bff live happily ever after now that you’ve finished royally fucking me over. Thanks for that, Mark. I appreciate it.” The red head spat bitterly.

Mark opened his mouth to respond but instead was abruptly cut off by a familiar shrill beep.

Ashley had hung up on him.

_‘How dramatic_.’ Mark now thought, a small smile spreading across his face as he remembered the garbled phone call, still sitting in his brightly lit room with wafts of his parent’s conversation coming up through the floorboards. _‘I wasted half an hour of my life to get that address.’_

Mark’s train of thought was brought to a screeching halt when suddenly the phone in his hands sprung to life, the vibration making the dark haired boy’s fingers tingle as the screen lit up brightly.

**Call from: JACK**

It proclaimed, and Mark didn’t hesitate to answer the call, the thought of declining it not even crossing his mind.

“Hi, Mark. Sorry for calling so late.” The green haired boy said quietly, almost whispering down the line.

At least he sounded a little better than he had the last time they spoke over the phone, his voice stronger and his words less bitter. Which was a good sign, Mark supposed, even though the other boy sounded as tired as Mark felt. Of course, who could blame him for that? If the past week was tough to Mark, then how the fuck was Jack still standing on his own two feet?

Mark felt a spark of pride ignite in his stomach for the green haired boy at the thought. Jack, despite everything, was still here, still fighting even though everything was against him right now. And Mark felt like that was something to be proud of, even if Jack might not.

“Don’t worry, I’m not that tired anyway. What’s up?” Mark asked, laying himself carefully back onto his bed with a quiet groan. His muscles were quickly beginning to realise that fighting with larger, older men was something they were really not used to and they certainly didn’t appreciate the sudden burst of activity.

Mark’s knuckles had been the worst pain, a raw, scorching heat flooding through his hand every single time he straightened his fingers, although thankfully they had now dulled down to a dead kind of numbness across the broken and bruised skin.

“I just called to tell you that Megan’s got the funeral all sorted out. It’s on Wednesday at one. I’d like you to come.” Jack said quietly, the words kicking Mark’s brain into action. In a few minutes the sun would be peeking out from behind the clouds to announce Tuesday morning, so in reality that only gave him one day to find himself a suit of some description and whatever else it is people need to attend a funeral. Don’t people bring flowers and shit?

“I wouldn’t bother renting a suit or anything, it’s gonna be pretty small. The only reason it’s that far away is cause my Uncle Damien’s flying over here from Ireland. I- ugh…that’s it.” Jack said awkwardly, still speaking remarkably quietly into the phone, like he was being watched.

“Alright, thanks for letting me know. Are the police still at your house?” The dark haired boy asked, a stab of guilt going through him at the way he’d just left Jack there, with no company other than the stoic police and his silent sister.

“Nah, they just left.” There was silence for a few seconds before Jack spoke again, words rushing out of his mouth in a flood of worry and fear. “They’re talking about fucking testimonies and lawyers and a load of shit about court. Mark, what if there’s not enough proof? What if it’s taken to court and he doesn’t get sent to jail? Or even better yet, what if he does get charged, what if he just does his time and fucking finds me then? I mean, what’s gonna stop him?”   

“Jack, calm down, it’ll be fine. If you have to testify to get that bastard locked up, then do it. All you have to do is tell the truth, they’ll have to believe you. I’ll testify for what I saw if I have to, and your sister can do the same. I promise, it’ll all work out.” Mark thought about his next words for a few seconds before speaking, steely determination in his voice. “And if he dares to so much as touch a hair on your head, I’ll fucking kill him.”

Mark heard a snort from the other end, a quiet laugh that filled his heart with something comforting, warm and fuzzy. “As much as I appreciate the offer, I feel bad enough that you’ve been pulled into all this shit _at all_. The last thing I need is for you to be all ‘knight in shining armour’ again and getting yourself seriously hurt.” Jack said, his joking tone discredited by the layer of sadness that permanently seemed to coat his voice. “You shouldn’t have put yourself at risk like that; it was a really stupid move.”

“Jack,” Mark began, rolling his eyes as he spoke even though he knew Jack couldn’t see him, a small sigh escaping his lips. “We’ve already been over this, don’t make me repeat myself. Don’t be an idiot; you didn’t pull me into this, it’s not your fault. And stop acting like helping you is something that I should regret. Why should I regret helping my friend? That makes no sense and you know it.”

Jack didn’t answer, the only sound his soft breathing as a silence fell over the two. It wasn’t particularly awkward, there was no frantic struggling for words that weren’t there to try and fill it; it was just, kind of comfortable. Like there was nothing that had to be said at that moment; no confessions or promises that needed to be made.

Mark couldn’t help but let the seconds stretch on, just basking in the feeling of having nothing expected of him except to just be there.

But the blissful silence also had a downside; Mark could feel his eyes sliding shut of their own accord, the exhaustion weighing him down as sleep called to him, tempting him. He yawned, loud and long, before speaking, hating that he had to shatter such a moment for such a stupid reason.

“I should probably go.” He said, stretching with a groan as his overworked muscles screamed in protest at the movement. He waited for a few seconds for Jack to respond but the only reply was a low murmur, too quiet for Mark to catch. “Jack?”

Jack repeated the words again, not much louder than the first time and only succeeding in making Mark’s eyebrows come together in confusion, only able to hear a muffled blur of noise.

 “What?” Mark asked, confusion colouring his voice. “I something wrong?”

“I-ugh,” Jack began a little louder, pausing for a moment to think. Mark couldn’t help but wonder what the hell went on in the other boy’s head that made him act the way he did; in Mark’s mind the green haired boy was still a puzzle waiting to be solved, surrounded with questions that might be answered with time. What was his history? What really made him tick?

“Could you- oh fuck. This is so fucking stupid.” Jack groaned, a short, humorless laugh escaping his lips. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. Go to sleep, Fischbach. I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

Mark was still fighting to keep his eyes open, but in that moment he didn’t give a shit. He sat up, rubbing his eyes with one hand as he held the phone to his ear with the other. “Oh no you fucking don’t. What were you going to say? Are you okay?” He was unable to hold back the concern in his voice, somehow terrified that something else had happened in the time they hadn’t spoken.

“It’s nothing really, Mark. I’m fine, seriously. I just-,” There it was again, a noise full of frustration. “Fuck. Could you please talk to me for just a bit longer?” He finally spat out reluctantly, the words full of embarrassment.

Mark blinked. “What? That’s it? Of course I’ll talk to you, you idiot. What do you want to talk about?”

“I ugh- anything, just please, I can’t stand listening to her crying anymore. Please, I just- I can’t…” Jack’s voice trailed off, a desperate plea to his voice, embarrassment forgotten.

Mark knew what Jack was trying to say without him having to ask. He was supposed to talk, that’s all he had to do his part. Run his mouth about anything and everything to help Jack forget for just a short while; distract him from everything that had happened that night and take him away from it all. Act like nothing was wrong, just for tonight. Pretend they hadn’t just talked about burying his mother 6 feet under, they weren’t beaten and bruised by a man nearly twice their age and there wasn’t the pitiful sound of muffled crying ghosting in the background of their call that Mark hadn’t noticed before.  

And so that’s exactly what Mark did, opening his mouth and simply allowing whatever random crap that came into his head to tumble out freely in a waterfall of useless bullshit. The dark haired boy thought he heard Jack let out a quiet sigh on the other end but he couldn’t tell if it was due to relief or exhaustion.

Mark didn’t know how long it went on, how long he just sat there just talking; childhood stories, stupidly pointless jokes and ridiculous games that he loved which he just happened to think of at the time all flowing out of his mouth. And Jack, for the most part, just sat there, listening intently; sometimes offering a question, a story or a light chuckle of his own.

It could’ve gone on for hours but Mark’s only indication of any time passing was when the deep red light of the sunrise began to fork through his window, lighting up the room in a warm shade of orange. The dark haired boy paused in his spiel of bullshit when Jack had been quiet for some time, taking a break to listen to the other boy’s breathing.

A laugh escaped Mark when he heard a low snore echo down the phone, but he clapped a hand over his mouth to try and muffle the laughter bubbling from his lips so as not to wake the green haired boy up. Mark wondered idly how long Jack had been asleep and exactly how long he’d been talking to himself, but he found he didn’t really mind as he carefully hung up the call and fell back into his soft bed with a groan.

The house was completely silent and Mark wondered for a second when Officer Carter had actually left. But slowly the exhaustion in his bones and the softness of his bed got the better of him, and Mark finally sank into sleep after one of the longest nights of his life.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This A/N is rambly af, just to warn you xD)
> 
> Heya! Ok so, I'm not dead. Shocking, right? I'm incredibly sorry for being so late with this update. I haven't been able to update for a combination of like 10 reasons but mostly it was due to the fact that my computer has been broken :/
> 
> My cousin was supposed to come over and fix it while i was away but the lazy ass didn't bother and so after getting bored waiting for him I've somehow managed to fix it after just pressing a ton of buttons *shrugs* I don't know anything about computers dude. But anyway all of my shit was gone from my files, so I'm sorry it took so long to re-write but here you go, FINALLY! I really hope this was worth the wait :)
> 
> Also, thankyou so goddamned much for all the support for this story, it's absolutely amazing and I can't believe people enjoy this!


	25. The Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's raining...

**Jack P.O.V**

It was raining.

Now, when I say raining, please don’t imagine that lovely, soft, almost hypnotising pitter-patter of a passing shower. No. What I’m talking about are droplets of water the size of large walnuts thundering down to earth at breakneck speeds and colliding with the slates on the roof so hard that Jack wondered if they would smash under the pressure.

The never ending sound of the weather assaulting his bedroom window had been the thing to wake Jack from his surprisingly dreamless sleep; his phone still held loosely in his right hand, bringing back echoes of the night before; Mark staying up with him and using his deep voice to lull the green haired boy to sleep. It meant so much to him.

Jack remembered just how relaxed he’d felt while Mark told him stupid stories down the phone, how safe. It was a good feeling. A small light at the end of this fucked up mess of a tunnel. All of a sudden he felt a strange tug in his gut; a yearning for Mark to be with him right now, even though deep down he knew that was a disgustingly selfish thought.

He didn’t own Mark. Mark had a life of his own, family and friends that needed him. It wasn’t Jack’s place to expect his friend to respond to his every beck and call like some kind of pet; just something for him to call upon when he was upset and needing a distraction from the world. Just the thought alone made his stomach churn uncomfortably. He would never do that, would he? That wasn’t what he was doing…was it?

Jack groaned quietly as pain shot through his mind, a horribly dull throbbing pain that reminded him of all those times he’d picked up a bottle to lessen the stress that came with responsibility. He should be used to headaches by now, but he wasn’t.

Then again, he should be used to the thought of burying his mother 6 feet under, but he wasn’t used to that either.

The sound of the high pitched howling wind drifting through the window accompanied by the rain that continued to pelt the glass, encouraged Jack to finally open his eyes. Drowsily blinking the grit out of his eyes, he was greeted with the familiar view of the overcast gloom of his bedroom.

There was a disgusting taste in his mouth; sour with a hint of something strangely metallic and tinny. He couldn’t remember what the fuck he ate, or what he drank last night, but right now he was sincerely regretting it; his stomach twisting and churning violently as he attempted to roll over in the sheets.

Holy fuck what was that smell?

Why did his room smell like the inside of a shady rundown club all of a sudden? Jack winced as the smell of stale sweat and alcohol shot up his nose, making his eyes water at the unexpectedly sharp aroma. Good god was that coming from _him_? 

Also why the fuck was it so hot in here? He could feel himself start to sweat in the uncomfortably clammy atmosphere of his bedroom.  

Desperately Jack kicked out at the sheets, heart thumping wildly as his breathing became loud and laboured. His legs were tangled, he couldn’t get out. It was so hot, he couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe?

The green haired boy thrashed out at the sheets that wrapped around him like a snake, coiling around his body and trapping him. He was gasping, hoping to find oxygen in the smothering warmth, but it was like his lungs weren’t filling with the air he was sucking in so desperately. The blood hammering through his ears was too loud for him to hear the wind anymore; his heart beating so hard he was sure it would jump straight out of his chest at any given moment.

It was getting harder to move, dark spots dancing across his vision as pain thrummed through every single muscle in his body in his attempts to untangle himself. Was this where it was all going to end? Oh fuck, he was going to die. He had to get out. He was going to die. He couldn’t breathe.

Suddenly the feeling of breathlessness was accompanied by hands clamping down on his neck, squeezing his windpipe and completely cutting off any tiny slivers of air Jack had been fighting so desperately to suck in. Something or someone was sitting on his chest, pressing down on his lungs with their body weight and slowly killing him.

Jack’s vision was swimming, the edges of his sight turning black like a photograph colouring with age, but he could still make out the blurry figure of his attacker. The familiar thick shoulders, the pudgy round face and the slick, greasy blond hair.

Jason.

Jason was back. He was going to kill him. He was going to squeeze the life right out of him like had tried so many times before. Jack was going to die and he couldn’t even scream for help. Fuck, not again. He couldn’t do it again. He didn’t have it in him to save himself.

“I’m gonna tell you something, Jackaboy. And you’re gonna listen _very_ carefully.” The green haired boy could hear that voice ringing in his ears, bouncing around in his head and sticking there like a wad of chewing gum.

“You’re fucking disgusting. You don’t deserve to be here, faggot. You’re nothing but a waste of space, just like that useless bitch of a mother you had. Looks like you’ll both be six feet under soon. What a fucking shame.” Sarcasm dripped from his lips alongside the droplets of spit that sprayed from his mouth, nothing but malice emphasising every word. “Your entire family are vermin. I’m just the exterminator that came to kill the filthy rats.”

There came a grating laugh followed by tightening his grip on Jack’s fragile throat.

Jack lashed out with all he had left, fists flying and feet kicking as hard as he could, droplets of sweat flying down his face in his frenzy of movement. Somehow he even managed to untangle his body from the sea of blankets, allowing cool air to reach his burning skin, sending shivers down his spine.

In a blink Jack’s attacker was gone, the weight on his chest that had pinned him to his bed disappearing and leaving the green haired boy with his heart still thudding painfully against his ribs in the aftermath of his panic; ragged gasps for air sounding horribly loud in the silence of the house.

Jack clumsily scrambled out of the bed as he felt his stomach begin to lurch uncomfortably, landing on the wooden floor with a low grunt of pain. Whatever little food that was in his stomach burned like fire, the sour taste of bile crawling up into his mouth as he staggered towards the door on unsteady feet, trying to keep his mouth firmly shut as he went.

It was his aim to reach the bathroom down the hall, because god knows his room didn’t need to smell anymore like a sewer than it already did.

But, spoiler alert: He didn’t make it to the bathroom.   

Jack had barely made it to his bedroom door before he felt his stomach give a particularly violent twist. He knew he couldn’t avoid the inevitable but that didn’t stop the desperate grab for the small, pink $1 bin that Megan had bought in a sale a few weeks ago in hopes to keep the house tidier.

At the time he’d scoffed at the idea, but right now? He could’ve fainted in relief.

Honestly it felt like he might faint regardless.

Jack couldn’t think. Sweat was literally dripping down his face even though his whole body was shaking with cold, his clammy fingers gripping onto the edges of the small plastic bucket as he finally emptied the contents of his stomach. He hated the feeling of the vomit forcing its way up his throat, leaving a disgusting, acidic taste in his mouth as it burned its way out of his body.

The smell was horrendous and Jack couldn’t remember when he’d fallen to his knees but he wasn’t particularly surprised. He kept on going until his stomach had to be empty, leaving him dry heaving over his bucket the burning in the back of his throat hurting worse than the headache that still hadn’t gone away and only added to his discomfort.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, retching into the stupid bin. Nor did he know when he’d started to cry, but by this point it really didn’t matter.

The sound of the front door openings and then slamming shut made Jack jump in surprise. He knew he probably should move, maybe run to the bathroom and make some kind of attempt to clean himself up away from the prying eyes of his sister and uncle. But his mind was a complete cluster-fuck at the moment, he was so fucking confused. Was any of what he saw real? Had Jason somehow escaped from the local police station and hunted him down? Or was he just losing his mind?       

Honestly, Jack wasn’t sure which answer terrified him more.

There was a knock on Jack’s bedroom door, pulling him sharply from his thoughts but he didn’t bother moving to acknowledging the sound, knowing that whoever was on the other side would come barging in whether he wanted them to or not.

Sure enough a few seconds later the door swung open, just missing Jack’s shoulder by an inch. The green haired boy found himself looking at a pair of shiny, steel-toed working boots, followed by too a pair of navy jeans which clad long skinny legs. By the time his eyes reached the hem of a rather familiar, ugly, olive body warmer he heard his uncle Damien finally speak, his voice low and gruff like gravel as per usual.

“Hey there, Jack.” He said almost cheerfully, apparently completely unfazed by the state his nephew was currently in. “Wow, you look like shit.”

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but instead of the sharp words leaving his mouth as he intended up came another bout of dry retching that forced him to keep his head facing the horrendous contents of the bin, but look on the bright side, at least it hid his shame.

Suddenly he felt strong arms hook under his armpits and lift him up like he weighed nothing. "Alright then, skipping the pleasantries, are we?" Damien said, amusement tugging at his words as he dragged the dead weight of his nephew towards the bathroom. Jack normally would've flinched away from the unwanted touch but at the moment he was conserving his energy for more important things than being difficult. What important things you ask?

Well, staying conscious was becoming a more daunting task with every moment that passed.

By the time Damien managed to pull him into the bathroom, Jack thankfully found himself able to think a little clearer. The absence of the putrid stink of vomit and the heavy heat that flooded his room was an instant relief but he could still feel sweat rolling off him in beads, his shirt clinging to his body uncomfortably and making his skin itch and shivers run down his back.

Jack’s uncle dumped him on the icy tiles of the bathroom floor, over the toilet despite how the violent retching seemed to have subsided to scraping cough. He heard Damien leave the room without a word as he slumped on the ground trying to collect the smithereens of his thoughts.

Of course, Damien was only gone for around 10 seconds. “So…care to tell me why you were emptying your guts? Honestly, I can’t blame you, the smell in that room would make anyone want to vomit but somehow I don’t think that’s your reason.” The tall man said airily as he strode into the bathroom and sat himself on the edge of the plastic bath, ignoring the high pitched squeak it gave off at his weight.

Jack looked up at his uncle’s calm expression through the curtain of green hair that covered his eyes and stuck to his skin. The older man really hadn’t changed much in the last 2 months or so. His voice still held both the thick Irish accent and the low undertone of mockery that it had back then; Jack found he still loathed it.

Damien had his sister’s eyes; a pale, piercing blue just like most of Jack’s family. But unlike most, Damien’s bright blues had become watered down and drained of colour over time, now an unattractive shade of grey.

His arms were thick with muscle from his work as a builder, and his skin permanently flushed red and weather beaten from the elements. His grey speckled hairline was running away from his face as he came closer and closer to 50 years old, and what little hair he had was currently plastered flat to his head, slick with water. Jack assumed the older man must’ve been caught in the rain outside; his entire form dripping with the stuff but he didn’t seem to particularly care.       

Fingers clicked under Jack’s nose, pulling him back to earth with a thud. “Hello? Anyone there? Are you gonna just stare into space all day or answer my fucking question?”

Oh yes, there’s another little fact about Damien Maguire.

The softest thing about him was his teeth.

Jack cleared his throat with one more scraping cough before speaking, his voice scratchy like he hadn’t breathed a word in years and fixed his uncle with a burning glare. “Fuck off; it’s none of your business. I’m fine.”

You see, Jack had never forgiven his uncle for what he did to Sam. How could he? This man had witnessed Sam at her worst and declared her a lunatic who should be locked up and the key thrown away. Jack had pleaded desperately with him, but Damien had been deaf to his begging and called the hospital anyway. He didn’t care about how much Jack cried that night, sinking onto the cold ground and shaking with the force of his sobs; if anything he berated the boy for his tears. ‘Stop crying. You’re being ridiculous. Real men don’t fucking cry.’ That’s what he’d said.

How could he forgive him after that? How could he forget that like it was nothing?

Damien’s smile was stretched tight across his face, a flicker of anger dancing in his lifeless eyes as he folded his arms. “Look here Jack; I don’t have any time to waste on humouring your angsty teenage bullshit. I just got off a 6 hour flight, so just make my life easier, stop being so fucking difficult and tell me what the fuck is wrong with you.” The words held the bite of irritation, the taller man obviously feeling rather grumpy thanks to jetlag.

Jack moved to spit into the toilet in an attempt to rid his mouth of the sour taste of vomit that still stuck to his teeth and tongue. The thought crossed his mind to just leave the room, but the memory of the repulsive smell that currently smothered his bedroom held him back. Instead he settled to shooting a deathly glare at his uncle who didn’t even have the decency to pretend to look affected.

Jack opened his mouth to spit sarcastic words but something about the way Damien was looking at him made him feel like that would be a terrible mistake. Instead he found words tumbling out of his mouth, his voice wavering and breaking a little no matter how much he wanted to keep it firm.

“It’s nothing. I thought I saw something but, I guess I just imagined it. It doesn’t matter.”

Damien’s right eyebrow tugged up like it was desperately trying to reach out to his hairline over the vast empty land of his forehead and failing drastically. “Alright, whatever you say.” A loud yawn ripped from the older man’s mouth. “I’d better go get some shut eye before tomorrow. See you later, Jack. Take a shower there, should cheer you up.”

“Wait.”

Jack looked just as surprised as his uncle did as the word escaped his lips. Something was bugging him; something had been bugging him from the very moment he heard his uncle was on his way over here.

“Why the fuck are you even here? Why do you suddenly care so much? When we were in Ireland you couldn’t be bothered to send us a Christmas card in the post and now you’re acting like you actually care about me, about my Ma. What’s in it for you? It’s not like she’s got a hidden fortune hidden in her will. So why?”

Once Jack started he was rather alarmed that he couldn’t seem to stop. As the questions rolled off his tongue he could see his uncle’s expression tightening, Jack couldn’t help but be surprised at how offended those eyes looked.

He watched as Damien actually had to close his eyes, practically able to hear the older man counting to ten in his head. When his uncle opened his eyes Jack could see the tension in every muscle in his body. Despite himself Jack couldn’t help but let his body shrink back just a little, like a reflex he didn’t know he had.

Damien let out a low, dangerous sigh before he allowed himself to speak his words slow and deliberate. “Believe it or not, you’re not the main character of the fucking universe, Jack. I don’t need to explain my reasons for being here to you, or to anyone else. So could you, for once in your life, shut your fucking trap and understand that you’re not the only one going through a hard time, she’s still my little sister, you know, and she was my little sister long before she was your Ma.”

The green haired boy blinked in surprise but he soon recovered. “You treated your family like a fucking inconvenience. Some big brother you were. Did you really expect me to just let that slide?”

Damien snorted with no humour behind it, bitterly shaking his head. “I don’t have to give you any answers, Sean. But then again, what the fuck am I doing up here, babying you when you’re obviously hell bent on hating me. Jesus, if I didn’t know better I’d say you hate me more than you hate yourself, but we both know that’s not true, don’t we?”

Jack felt his back stiffen, warily eyeing the other man from the tiled floor of the bathroom. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” He spat, purposely ignoring the way his arms were shaking as they held his weight.

Damien laughed softly, his voice much quieter than before but no less hard. “Yes, you do. I remember after Sam went into hospital you used to talk in your sleep. I swear it was the same every single night; you’d bang on for fucking hours about how it was all your fault, how sorry you were and then you’d break down crying like it was somehow going to fix everything.”

Jack bit his lip. Who the fuck did this man think he was? He didn’t deserve to be right. How dare he come in here acting like he knew everything there was to know about Jack? It wasn’t fair.

“But, that’s what I never understood about you, Jack. I don’t understand how you can sink so far into that thick skull of yours that you convince yourself her sickness was somehow your fault. Its horseshit and we both know it. People get sick, that’s the way life goes, it’s nobody’s fault and it’s foolish to think anything different.” Damien wasn’t even arguing anymore, he was just talking. Saying things Jack knew he needed to hear no matter how much he didn’t want to.

Silence stretched out between the two, quickly turning awkward the longer it went on. Jack had nothing to say to that. How the fuck was he supposed to answer such a thing?

Suddenly the quiet was destroyed as another deafening yawn that was torn for the older man who stretched his arms above his head before giving a pointed look towards the shower. “Wash, you smell like shit. By the time you’re done your room should be reasonably alright, I opened the windows to let that stink out so you should be fine. Also, go eat something. You look like you’re going to waste away.”

Jack didn’t say a word and just watched from his seat on the tiles as his uncle slouched out of the room, slamming the door firmly behind him.

***

Jack hated to admit it, but Damien had been right.

The shower really did cheer him up.

He even made himself some toast, pointedly not speaking to Megan who gloomily sipped from a mug of what he assumed to be cold tea. Changed into a clean pair of jeans and a new t-shirt and was almost feeling like a normal human being again as he waited impatiently for the shitty kettle to boil so he could finally get his cheap cup of coffee.

Soft shores echoing down the stairs reminded him of the presence of his uncle who must’ve passed out on Megan’s bed upstairs but he realised he didn’t find the idea of the man being here as repulsive as he did before, actually it was rather comforting in a weird way.

The only way things could get any better would be if…

There was a knock on the door, making Jack jump a little in surprise. He sighed at the still boiling kettle, not wanting to abandon it when it was so close to being finished, but Megan was like a pale statue and Damien was out cold, so Jack had no choice but to head towards the front door.

Another two knocks came thundering down against the door. Jesus, impatient much?

“I’m comin’” He yelled, but there came another two knocks anyway. “ Jesus Christ, I’m fucking comin’!”

Finally he reached the door, swinging it open with a huff, surprised to see Mark standing in the rain which still hadn’t stopped, his dark hair flat against his forehead as the droplets pelted him.

“Mark? What’re you…”

Jack trailed off as he looked behind the dark haired boy to see a tall, kind-faced man wearing a horrible looking light blue cardigan and brown slacks combo and a short, tanned, middle-aged woman with dark hair who was looking at Jack like he’d just professed his love for Satan, both drenched in water like they’d just done the ice bucket challenge.

Jack was confused for a second before he began to notice small things. The man had Mark’s eyes and his slightly too large nose while the woman had the same tanned skin and dark hair combination that suited Mark so well.

Peeking out from behind the two adults was a girl, maybe a year or so younger than Mark and him, an incredibly uncomfortable look on her pretty features as she took in Jack’s face as it flickered from confusion to shock.

The green haired boy’s wide eyes fixed themselves on Mark, hoping he’d have some answers but all he got was an apologetic look. Mark was fidgeting with his sleeve again. “Hey Jack. I- ugh…I” He tried but he seemed to be lost for words.

It didn’t matter, though, his mom obviously was not.

“Hello Sean, I’m Ellen Fischbach and this is my husband, Allan Fischbach. I really hope you don’t mind us coming in.”

And with that she shoved past him without another word.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/ZW4JI3x5lUE there's a vid of me singing up on YT if that interests anyone :P
> 
> *twiddles thumbs* Once again I'm very sorry for the wait. I know I'm a fuckin idiot for breaking my computer again...sorry bout that...
> 
> I'm sorry I haven't got tha chance to answer comments from the last chapter but I definitely will :D  
> 


	26. The Old Hag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really loved writing this chapter and you'll probably see why :P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shameless self promotion ahead*  
> I tried my hand at writing another lil Septiplier fic called 'He Talks Too Much' so if you like this maybe you'd like that...*shuffles feet* check it out if ya wanna...
> 
> Enjoy!

**Jack P.O.V**

Jack wouldn't consider himself a proud man.

He'd never seen himself as a person of arrogance, or more accurately he'd never had a reason to. He hadn't grown up with mountains of money and two parents who could supply him with everything he desired and so he'd never worried about having anything particularly expensive or beautiful in his possession. It had never been very high on his priority

Ellen Fischbach obviously never exactly had any problems when it came to money.

Or that's what Jack assumed, judging by the undisguised look of pure distain on her face as her eyes scanned over Megan's cramped and admittedly rather dirty home. The rest of the Fischbach family filtered in behind Ellen, Mark's sister and father having become incredibly interested in the blanched wooden planks that decked the floor, their eyes purposefully avoiding the green haired teen's. Mark, however, was watching him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction through his expression but from the apprehension on his features he wasn't having much luck. Either that or Jack was looking positively murderous.

Jack turned his attention back to Mark's mother who was slowly lowering herself onto the edge of the ripped sofa, a look of pure disgust on her face at the fact her actual skin had to make contact with such an unclean surface. Suddenly her gaze met with Jack's, a stony look on his face as he raised an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?" He asked, his voice cold and full of mockery. "I'm so sorry for the mess, I wasn't expecting to be in the presence of fucking royalty."

Jack couldn't help but allow a little smirk to tug at the edge of his mouth at the way Ellen Fischbach's eyes bulged, obviously not appreciating the sarcastic undertone in every word.

Still, the woman straightened her back at the nickname, pursing her lips into a thin line. "No, no problem. I'm just admiring your... _lovely_ home." She said, a tight smile slowly forming on her face, mirroring Jack's own air of mockery but with her own injection of hatred. Jack could practically feel the heat radiating from the aggression bubbling beneath her skin.

He couldn't help but snort at her words. "Of course you are, a pompous bitch like you would enjoy doing that sort of thing, right?" Casually Jack turned to the rest of the Fischbach family, pointedly ignoring the way Mark's mother's eyes were practically busting out of her head, her face flushing a bright angry red. He held back a laugh as he took in their shocked expressions eyes wide and watching the exchange like spectators at a tennis match.

Jack kept his body language as casual and carefree as he could, spinning on his heel and walking towards the kitchen, shooting the Fischbach's a playful grin. "Sit down, the sofa won't bite you. Would anyone like a drink?"

There was silence for a moment before Ellen spoke up. "I'll have coffee. Black. No sugar."

Jack smiled, unable to help himself as he gave her a mocking bow. "Of course madam, coming right up. Mark, you're coming too."

Mark blinked and looked up in surprised at the sound of his name. "I am?"

Jack grabbed the other boy by the arm and tugged him towards the door. "Yes, you are." He said firmly as he shoved Mark through the door, not forgetting to send a little wave towards Ellen who was glaring at him with a surprising amount of loathing. "Won't be long!" He sang as he man handled Mark into the kitchen.

***

The kitchen was rather run down, Jack would be the first to admit that; the paint was peeling and the cooker was giving off strong smells of neglect and oil which tended to fill the entire room. The kettle was one of the few things in the room that was fully functioning and regularly in use and as Jack set about filling the stupid thing up again, Mark did nothing but stare at his hands as they worked. Jack was thankful to see the seat that Megan had been curled up in before was now empty; she'd probably made a run for it when she heard the voices coming from the living room.

"So..." Jack began, casually leaning on the table top as he waited for the water to boil once again, his eyes fixed on Mark. "You never told me your Ma was such an old hag."

Mark's head snapped up to his face, giving him a rather intense warning look. "Watch it. She's still my Mom, Jack."

The green haired boy rolled his eyes. "I bet she has nothing good to say about me so I'll say whatever I want. What's her problem anyway? It's like she's trying to stab me to death with her _eyes_."

Mark snorted, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. "Yeah, not gonna lie she hates your guts." Suddenly he lowered his head, almost in shame. "I'm really sorry for bringing her here. It was a terrible idea. I should've just brought Dad, at least he's a little more civilised."

The kettle let off a low gurgling noise, indicating it was boiled and Jack lazily poured it into his cup before opening a cupboard for another mug. He spoke as he worked. "Maybe. But that brings me to my next question," He paused in his movements to look Mark dead in the eyes. "What the fuck are you even doing here? Can you not go a day without seeing my beautiful face or something?"

Mark sighed, ignoring the sarcastic comment and keeping his eyes glued to the dirty floorboards. "Look, it wasn't my idea, alright? My parents were planning on kicking me to the curb but then Officer Carter somehow made them agree to let me stay. On one condition."

Of course there was one condition, Jack thought, mentally rolling his eyes. You shouldn't have to make a deal just to look after your own child.

Mark was playing with his sleeve again, Jack noticed idly. How was that thing not in tatters by now? It seemed like he did nothing else. He raised an eyebrow at the other boy, patiently waiting for him to gather the words to continue.

"Look, my mom thinks you're a terrible person, Jack. That's putting it pretty blunt, but it's true. She refuses to believe anything I tell her. But Carter convinced her that if she just met you, you could prove you were a good." Mark took a deep breath. "I know she's going to treat you like dirt, and I am so sorry for that, but I have nowhere else to go and I'm out of options. Please, Jack, help me out here. If you can keep her happy just for today, I'll fucking pay you if it comes to it."

The green haired boy bit his lip, running through the words in his head, slowly debating what he should do. It would be so easy to just let rip at a woman who represented every single thing Jack hated about the people of this town, this country even. He could practically smell the snobby aura that rolled off her like perfume; sickeningly sweet with a bitter aftertaste. Yet, no matter how much he wanted it, he couldn't. Because Mark was his friend, and friends don't abandon each other when they're in need.

Finally he let out a quiet sigh, looking away to throw in a teabag and pour the boiling hot water into the chipped cup, grabbing a tea spoon to stir the mixture thoughtfully. "Fine, I'll play angel for a bit if it keeps you in house and home, but don't come near me with your money, I don't want it."

Mark's face burst into a shining grin. "Fantastic! Thank you so much Jack, I promise you won't regret it!" He moved forward and wrapped his arms around his friend, pulling him into a tight hug that lasted just a few seconds too long before Jack gave him a playful shove, a grin growing on his tired features.

"Yeah, yeah, get off. I'm gonna spill the tea." Jack said softly, giving his friend a smile.

Mark raised an eyebrow. "I thought Mom asked for coffee?"

"Yeah well, I've only got so much coffee in this house and I'm not wasting a single drop on that bitch." Jack said calmly, removing the teabag from the cup and pouring in some milk as Mark disguised his laugh as a harsh cough. "She can live with it."

Quickly he grabbed his own cup of coffee, taking a mouthful of the still scalding hot liquid as he headed towards the door, Mark following close behind.

"Good luck." Mark muttered quietly in his ear, and Jack couldn't help but feel like he were about to go on stage during a school performance.

Hell, by the way his stomach was fluttering he must be getting stage fright too.

"I'll need it." He whispered back, before he finally pushed the door open and strode through it.

***

Everyone knows those silences. Those awkward voids of quiet that are only broken by the occasional shifting of feet or the sip of a drink; using any means of distraction possible to detach yourself from the situation and make yourself feel like, in reality, things aren't as painfully awkward as you think they are.

Well, this is one of those silences.

Mark's father seemed to be most affected by it, the father rubbing his hands together and moving around in his seat on the sofa as he kept his eyes toward the floor. Ellen, of course, was the least affected, her head held high and her cup of tea, untouched in her hand.

"Jack, you look a little pale. Feeling okay?" Mark's father finally blurted out bravely, delving into the world of small talk with the younger boy like they hadn't just spent the guts of five minutes in dead silence.

"I'm Irish, it comes naturally." Jack said, lazily but a sharp look from Mark made him continue. "But I- uh, I just had a bit of a rough time this morning, that's all."

Mark's father nodded, a sympathetic smile on his face. Jack couldn't tell if it was fake or not, nor could he remember the man's name. It was strange how he could remember the mother's name so easily but the father seemed to fade out of his mind. Maybe it was because he was so quiet?

"I see. Have you- um have you gone to the doctor about that- uh." Mark's dad made a gesture to Jack's neck but seemed too uncomfortable to finish. Jack didn't react, he knew what the man was trying to say.

He was talking about the finger shaped bruises that encircled his throat like a necklace, an imprint of Jason's hands on his skin still lingering like an echo. Jack had seen them in the mirror when he got out of the shower this morning; the ugly mottled brow, purple and blue clashing against his white skin tone. 

His neck didn't feel as stiff anymore, the hot water from the shower seemed to have calmed his distressed muscles to the extent that he could move freely without too much pain, but he couldn't help but feel like he was wearing a brand on his skin with no way to hide it. It was like a sign with 'pity me' written on it floating above his head constantly and he hated it. 

"No I haven't. It's just bruising, nothing broken I'm pretty sure." He finally answered stiffly.

Mark's sister, Jack had never caught her name, seemed to have perked up from where she had slumped on the couch looking bored; now ogling the bruises that littered Jack's skin with wonder. "Oh my God how did you get them though!? They look sore, are they sore?"  

Jack was surprised by the question. "I- I just-."

"Carrie, sit back." Ellen's voice barked, harshly. "I told you to stay at home but you came anyway, so for goodness sake have some manners and be quiet!" Carrie did as she was told, but grumpily, crossing her arms and slumping back in her seat glaring moodily at her mother.

Jack had almost forgotten Ellen was there for a second, but she certainly hadn't forgotten him. She was giving him and absolutely filthy look, not making any attempt to disguise her hatred. "You've corrupted one of my children already, I refuse to let you corrupt another." She bit out.

Jack smiled at her, all teeth. "It's not my fault I have such a winning personality, and anyway, I would never dream of corrupting your children. What the hell would I have to gain from that?"

Ellen looked at Mark, pointing at Jack like he could hear or see her at all. "Do you see, Mark? I was right. He only does things when he believes he can gain something for himself! Do you really want to be around such an obvious manipulative snake?"

Jack couldn't help himself, rolling his eyes and letting out a loud groan that made the woman's head snap towards him, eyes flashing dangerously. "For fuck's sake can you even hear yourself, woman? You're fucking twisting my words as soon as they come out of my mouth and then have the guts to say _I'm_ the manipulator here? Are you serious?"

Her stance was stiff, back completely ridged and her face bright red. "That is the fourth time you've sworn at me, young man and I-"

"I'll swear in my own fucking house if I want to!" Jack practically roared, jumping out of his seat, fire burning behind his eyes and his fists clenched tightly. "You came in here, unwanted and uninvited so you can have the fucking decency to shut your mouth and stop acting like you own the place."

Ellen was taken aback by the sudden outburst but she still had the audacity to wrinkle her nose at the thought. "I wouldn't want to own a dirty hole such as this anyway. You're living like rats and that's just what you deserve you uncivilized, obnoxious and egotistical hooligan. I hope you're mother is proud of the disgusting piece of scum you've become." She spat scathingly, a scowl marring her features.

Jack laughed bitterly. "I wouldn't know, would I? Because she's fucking dead and before that she could barely remember her own fucking name. I honestly think she had bigger problems to worry about than if I was living up to the social expectations made by posh, know-it-all bastards like you, but if she cared at all, I'm sure she'd be happy I'm not turning into whatever the fuck you are."

"I should've known your family would be just as uneducated as yourself. The whole lot of you should get out of this country and go back into whatever disgusting hole you crawled out of and never come back!" Ellen squawked, waving her hands at the green haired boy as if trying to intimidate him with sign language.

Suddenly someone cleared their throat just behind when Jack stood. "Uh Jack? Care to introduce me to your friends?"

Jack turned to see his Uncle in the doorway, rubbing his eyes; his clothing crumpled from where he'd just fallen into bed about an hour or so earlier. Despite his sleepy aura, Jack could see his watery eyes sweeping over the small gathering of people in his sitting room; noting how Ellen was still red in the face, eyes blazing; and how Jack was breathing hard, his fists still clenched tightly at his sides, the knuckles white. Damien took in the rest of the Fischbach family, their slightly gobsmacked expressions making it rather obvious that they hadn't been expecting such an...explosive scene.

"Could you go upstairs, Jack?" Damien said quietly, quickly cutting the boy off when he made to protest. "No arguments. I think you've done enough. Fuck off. I'll sort this mess."

Jack sighed, hanging his head as he passed his uncle and began to climb the stairs to his room when he heard Damien's voice through the still open door.

"Yeah, you too. Hell, have a fucking party for all I care. Just keep that twat from doing something stupid, alright? Good lad."

Suddenly Mark was plodding up the stairs and Jack walked alongside him, giving him an apologetic look as soon as their eyes met. "I'm so sorry, Mark. I fucked it up. It- I didn't mean to- I never mean to, it just sort of comes out and I- I'm so sorry."

Mark sighed quietly. "It's fine. It was too much to ask, I knew that." A small smile began tugging at his lips. "Still, you knocked her down a peg or two and she really had it coming."

Jack felt himself smiling too. "Well, I supposed it's just my Irish heritage that makes me so good at insulting people."

Mark chuckled, giving his friend a playful shove. "Don't blame your poor country, blame that massive mouth of yours that obviously has absolutely no filter whatsoever."

"Oi! My mouth is a perfectly normal size! I'm extremely offended you could say otherwise." Jack was sure he was sticking his lower lip out which probably wasn't helping his case at all.

They reached Jack's room, slipping inside without a sound. Sunlight was shining brightly through the window, illuminating everything with the thin rays of warmth. The two teens both just sat on the edge of the bed, a picture that seemed so incredibly familiar it was like they'd been doing it for years, not just weeks.

Jack couldn't help but be thankful that he wasn't on his own up here. Especially since he was seriously beginning to doubt his sanity after his stupid episode this morning. He didn't trust himself.

They both lay back on the bed, first Jack, then Mark, their legs dangling over the edge as they stared up at the ceiling.

"Y'know, it sounds bad, but I'm kinda glad you got the chance to yell at my mom today. If anyone deserved to, you did." Mark said quietly.

"I have no idea what you mean, but I'm glad you're not pissed at me for it." Jack replied just as quietly.

Suddenly Mark sat up on his elbow, facing Jack, a look of deep thought on his features.

Jack looked up at him lazily, the adrenalin from the argument having worn off leaving him feeling incredibly drained. "What's wrong with you?"

Mark bit his lip nervously, and Jack had a feeling that if the other boy wasn't currently leaning on his arm he'd probably be fiddling with his sleeve right now.

"C'mon spit it out. Have I got something on my face?"

Finally Mark seemed to make a decision. "Alright, let me check something real quick, would you?"

Jack shrugged. "Sure. What is it?"

"Close your eyes for a second." Mark said softly, ignoring Jack's question completely.

The Irishman huffed quietly, but did as he was told and allowed his eyes to slide shut, his mind full of questions that buzzed around his head like bees. He heard the sheets rustle a little as Mark shifted his weight.

"What the hell are you doing? This had better not be a prank or something because I swear if you put anything on my face, I'm going to shove it straight up your-mmf."

Suddenly his mouth was covered with something warm and hard putting a light pressure on his mouth and cutting off completely. Naturally his eyes shot open at the unexpected contact and he was somehow unsurprised when he found himself nose to nose with Mark Fischbach who had his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

It took Jack a few seconds to realise he should probably be doing something about this.

Obviously he returned the kiss with gusto, kicking his arms into action to wrap around Mark's neck and practically melting against the other boy as he heard an unconscious sigh escape his own lips.

He didn't allow himself to think because he knew if he did, he would start to curse himself for enjoying it so damn much and he really didn't need to deal with that shit right now. Instead he just allowed himself to feel, something he hadn't done in such a long time.

While at the beginning it had been nothing more than something soft and sweet; the kiss quickly became more heated when Jack felt Mark's hands beginning to wander, sliding slowly from his shoulders and running down over the cloth of his shirt until they reached his hips, gripping them tightly to pull the green haired boy even closer. His hands felt like they were burning their print into his very core.

Jack made no move to stop him and it scared him, his stomach twisting into an uncomfortable knot as he stayed liplocked with his best, and only, friend; his hand coming up without his permission to rake through the other boy's hair gently, loving how soft it felt between his fingers.

The taste was different than it had been before. Now all Jack could taste was something incredibly sweet, but not sickeningly so. It was like the taste of spun sugar dissolving on your tongue; fleeting but oh so addictive.

And Jack knew he was hooked. He wanted more. He wanted more of this, the touching, the warm, the feeling of being completely secure.

It was all so new to him and it was absolutely fucking terrifying but so exhilarating all at the same time; an overload to his senses he's never felt before.

This time there was no alcohol in his system to dull his senses and help him just go with what was happening. He could feel everything so acutely; Mark's fingers sliding up under the fabric of his shirt and running over the expanse of his back, making his breath hitch; the strange scratch of stubble against his cheek as their mouths clashed together; the way his blood was thrumming in his ears so loud he could barely hear anything else.

He couldn't remember when he'd shut his eyes but now he opened them; just taking in the sight of the man who was currently leaning over him. He was alarmed at the spike of fear that shot through him at the sight. What was wrong with him? This felt so amazing. What was holding him back?

Mark must've noticed something was wrong as he pulled back slowly, looking down at the green haired boy in concern, breathing heavily with a cute pink hue to his cheeks as he quickly removed his hands from Jack's body. The green haired boy tried not to mourn the loss.

Jack knew his own cheeks were flushed a bright violent red, his eyes were probably blown wide and his hair was more likely than not mussed to shit, but Mark didn't seem to care at all and that was incredibly comforting in the strangest of ways.

"Are you alright?" Mark finally gasped, eyes carefully scanning the other boy's face and searching for any sign of discomfort.

Jack put on a cocky grin, just to make Mark feel a little better. "Yeah, of course I'm fine. What the fuck were you trying to check, anyway?"

"I just wanted to know if- if you like kissing me as much as I like kissing you." Mark whispered, barely audible. His head was hanging and he couldn't look Jack in the eyes instead looking down at Jack's bed sheets beside his head with burning embarrassment.

He was playing with the cuff of his fucking shirt again.

Jack couldn't help but reach out a hand, if a little hesitantly, to stop the awkward fidgeting, surprised when the action emphasised just how much smaller his own hand was compared to Mark's.

Mark looked into his eyes, confused at the movement.

Jack gave him a tiny smile as he carefully linked their fingers together. "Calm down, I liked it." He said in a small voice, like he didn't want another soul to hear.

Mark smiled back, eyes big and warm, giving Jack's hand a gentle squeeze. "I- I liked it too."

"I suppose this makes us both pretty gay now, right? If we like kissing guys?" Jack practically whispered, like there was a baby sleeping in the corner that he refused to wake up.

Mark wrinkled his nose a little and tilted his head in thought. "I don't know. I suppose you could say that, but I've never kissed any other guy but you and I really don't feel like questioning my sexuality right now. Do you?"

"Nah, I could definitely leave that one until later." The green haired boy sighed in relief, purposefully ignoring another question that was stuck in the forefront of his mind.

_What does this make us?_ He wondered, but couldn't find the courage to say it. It was so much easier to just ignore the elephant in the room and just enjoy this...whatever it was, until he was forced to ask the hard questions in the future. It could wait. He could wait.  
  
"Who's the guy downstairs? I don't think I've seen him before." Mark commented, going back to just lying down and staring up at the ceiling, copying Jack's current position.

"Just my uncle. He came over for the funeral, remember?" Jack muttered, closing his eyes at the thought. Jesus why did he have to bring that up? Why did he have to fucking remember?

He felt Mark squeeze his hand reassuringly. "Are you going to be ok?"

Jack shrugged. "I guess. I've been through worse, surely it can't be that bad."

"You sure?"

"Of course. Stop worrying."

Suddenly Jack felt the hand holding his carefully pry itself from his fingers and heard the creak of the bed springs as Mark stood up. The green haired boy blinked up at Mark's form towering over him. "What the hell are you doing now?" Strong arms hooked themselves under his knees and behind his neck making him jump in alarm.

"Hey, hey, hey I didn't sign up for this! Get your meaty ass hands off me, I can move perfectly fine on my own!" Jack protested rather loudly and wriggled around a little but didn't really fight it as Mark gently laid him back on the bed properly so his head fell on the pillow. "What the fuck was that for?" Jack groaned quietly. "I get it, you're strong, stop showing off."

Mark laughed quietly, grabbing a blanket and throwing it over Jack's lazy figure before hopping onto the bed behind him and pulling his small form firmly against his chest. Jack turned to look at the other boy with his eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

"What are we doing now? Is this something else you 'wanted to check'." He asked, adding air quotes with his hands to emphasis his point.

Mark rolled his eyes and just hugged the other boy closer under the blankets, resting his chin on his shoulder. "We're cuddling, duh."

"Uh- why?"  

"Because judging by those circles under your eyes you really need to sleep. Plus, it's comfy and warm, I like it a lot and I don't get to do it much so shhh." Mark murmured quietly into his friend's ear and weaving a hand through the other boy's hair.

Jack sighed at the feeling, relaxing against Mark's chest and allowing his eyes to close for what seemed to be the millionth time that day. It was true that he was tired, but that was mostly due to his shitty morning; he didn't feel like sleeping. Still, Mark was right. This was deliciously warm and comforting, something Jack desperately needed as the prospect of tomorrow loomed over him like an executioner.

He knew he'd lied to Mark when he said he'd be ok tomorrow. He knew just how painful it was going to be, the onslaught of memories that would be completely inevitable. It had even crossed his mind to skip the funeral altogether just to save himself the pain, but funerals were supposed to help, weren't they? They were supposed to be a last farewell or some shit. Hopefully it would help him get on the road to recovery. But Jack somehow doubted that would be the case.

Jack snuggled back into his friend, shifting his weight until he found a comfortable position and despite not feeling at all tired, he began to drift off, perfectly happy to leave the consequences of being caught in such a position for his future self to worry about.

It couldn't be that bad...right? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me writing actual happy shit! (just in time for Halloween but shhhhhh) 
> 
> Ok so here's the deal with this absolute mammoth of a chapter. I originally planned to split it into two separate chapters but seriously, I feel like such an asshole for leaving such long gaps between chapters and so I decided to just give you guys the whole lot in one chunk and hope for the best.
> 
> I'm not very experienced with writing about things like real romance or fluff but still I hope this was up to standard. Feel free to ask me about anything that doesn't make sense :)  
> I hope you enjoyed and have a Happy Halloween!


	27. The 'Fun' in Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much angst, but what else were you expecting really?

Mark P.O.V

It had been years since Mark had attended a funeral. Something he couldn't help but be grateful for.

Originally he wasn't sure what he should be wearing to such a thing; his mind full of scenes from the TV screen that painted the picture of black and white suits, gushing rain and a solemn line of loved ones weeping as the deceased was lowered into the ground. Jack had promised him that formal attire wasn't necessary but that then left the question of, what the fuck did he wear then?

Mark had spent the last 15 minutes sorting through his wardrobe, searching for something reasonable to wear to such a sombre event, but he found himself hard pushed to find anything that didn't have at least one questionable stain splattered down the fabric. It seemed incredibly selfish to be worried about how he'd look at a funeral, after all, it wasn't like anyone would be looking at him; yet, here he was.

He'd arrived home at around 6 in the evening yesterday. Apparently Jack's uncle was quite the 'funny man' or at least that's what Mark's father laughed about during the entire drive; his cheeks painted a rosy red and his words slightly slurred. His wife sat beside him in deathly silence, lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval as she gripped the steering wheel tightly.

Carrie and Mark had shared a look of understanding in the back seat as they listened to their father's drunken rambling. Had it been any other circumstance, Mark might've laughed at how giddy his father was whilst drunk. Instead all he could think of was just how close his family was to the tipping point, if his father, a man who despised alcohol, was actually drinking it.

It was strange how he never noticed it before, but in that car he could practically smell the tension in the rope that held his family together. It was snapping, and they all knew it; the question was more when it would give way. Mark had no idea how he'd never realised how long Carrie had been staying out nowadays, how his parents never seemed to speak to each other like they used to and he wondered how long it had been since they had spoken a word to him that wasn't a caution, or a sharp word. Still, it's kind of funny the things you miss when you're busy fighting your own losing battle.

Mark sighed, finally deciding on a pair of navy jeans and the cleanest black shirt he owned, tugging them on quickly. His dad, even though he was more than a little hung over, promised to drive him to the church today. Ellen had immediately walked out of the kitchen without breathing a word about the agreement, something so uncharacteristic it made Mark turn to his father in confusion.

His dad had answered his son without any question needed. "She's annoyed with me and honestly I don't blame her. This'll all be over soon though; everything will get back to normal."

Mark's expression of confusion didn't change. "What did you do?"

Allan had taken a sip of his water before answering, making sure to keep his voice quiet. "Well, when Damien offered me a drink, I took it. And I took another, and another. Bit stupid of me but it felt good y'know? To lighten up a little." He looked solemnly down at the glass clasped tightly in his hands.

"But uh, that just got under her skin. Safe to say the reason I'm getting the silent treatment is because I told Damien I thought Jack was a good guy underneath it all, and that he didn't deserve what happened. As you'd expect, I don't think she appreciated the sentiment."

Mark snorted, the corner of his mouth tugging up into the ghost of a grin. "Yeah, I can see why that would piss her off."

The dark haired boy couldn't help but be surprised when his dad was smiling too. This was a nice change; normally he'd get a half-hearted scolding for disrespecting his mother. His father chuckled quietly. "You wanna hear something strange?" Mark shrugged, nodding his head a little.

His dad grinned, humour glowing in his eyes and making them light up like embers. "Damien did not touch a single drop of drink last night. Isn't that weird? I thought that with him being Irish and all he'd be drinking with me, drinking against me even, but he wasn't. In fact, he told me he hasn't touched a drink in years! Isn't that strange?"

Mark shrugged, knowing better than to answer the comment. His dad was just starting to play nice; he wasn't going to push his luck. The dark haired boy knew his father meant nothing by it, and that at least was something. "What changed your mind about Jack, Dad?" He finally asked, more curious than anything else.

Allan had looked at his son carefully before speaking softly, an almost thoughtful tone to his voice. "I saw the way you looked at him, I suppose. Only when he wasn't looking, you looked at him like you could trust him with the world. I'm your father, Mark, and I can't remember a single time in your life you've ever looked at me with the same respect as you do that boy. I just thought, how could he possibly be the monster I believed he was, if my son looks at him like that?"

***

Mark wasn't sure at what exact point Jack had grabbed his hand and started to hold on for dear life, but he found he really didn't care.

Samantha Marie McLoughlin's grave had been dug under the twisting branches of a beautiful hawthorn tree, the amber leaves raining down on the funeral party as they silently watched her coffin disappear into the ground. The elderly priest stood a little hunched over the grave spouting words of God, but Mark got the feeling no one was truly listening; the priest was more for show than anything else.

Sporadic shafts of sunlight fought through the tall tree's branches and glinted against the pale green of Jack's hair as he moved himself closer to his friend. The Irishman refused to allow himself the luxury of crying, but Mark could see the tremor of his upper lip as he fought to keep control, the way his entire body shook like a leaf in the wind.

Mark wanted to tell him it would be okay. That it's okay to cry if he needed to. That if he could, he would take all of Jack's pain away and just keep him safe.

But of course he didn't, he couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to; and instead just stood beside the other boy in a silent display of support. There was nothing else he could do.

A total of six people, including Mark himself, had attended the funeral, perhaps that's the saddest part of all. Everyone who dies wants to be remembered, they want their little spark of life to live on in those they've left behind. And now Mark understood why Jack had called upon him to come here, just to be one of the few who would remember.

Even the weather didn't have the decency to provide a shower of rain to hide the fact that not a single tear had been shed for Samantha McLoughlin at her own funeral. Honestly, that saddened Mark more than anything else.

As well as the McLoughlin family and Mark himself, there were two more people who attended the funeral that Mark hadn't really expected to bother, still he felt grateful that they did. Those two people were Felix, Sam's carer Mark remembered, and a young woman Mark had never seen before who said nothing but stayed close to the blonde, their fingers intertwined for comfort.

The whole ceremony didn't last longer than half an hour, the priest seeming to leave out large chunks of text as he realised how little he was wanted. It didn't really matter; the general gist stayed the same. If anyone else noticed they didn't mention it; there seemed to be a silent understanding between the group to just get it over and done with as fast as possible, and the thought crossed Mark's mind that he should probably feel guilty about that.

After the priest left with a silent bow of his head it was like a sign of dismissal; everyone else began to trickle out of the graveyard, talking of some kind of after-dinner to commemorate Samantha's memory properly. But Jack himself didn't move a muscle, just stood staring blankly at his mother's grave and Mark stood silently with him, waiting patiently for his friend to leave.

Then Mark noticed with some confusion that Jack wasn't looking at the grave at all, in fact he was looking behind it where the hawthorn tree stood proudly. Mark began looking closer at the boy, noticing other little things; Jack's breath was coming in great shuddering gasps like he'd just ran a marathon; his grip on Mark's hand was actually starting to cut off the other boy's blood circulation altogether, and his legs were trembling so much Mark was actually terrified his friend was going to collapse under his own body weight.

He gave Jack's hand a little squeeze, partially to snap him out of it, partially to get the blood flowing in his fingers again. The green haired boy immediately snapped his head around to look at Mark, so quickly the dark haired boy was surprised he didn't get whiplash.

On closer inspection Jack's eyes were blown to the size of dinner plates and the muscles in his shoulders were tensed like he was preparing for a fight of some kind. "He's there, Mark." The green haired boy finally whispered, his voice trembling in pure terror. He raised an unsteady hand, pointing in the direction he'd been staring at. "Look! Behind the tree! Oh my god he's right there."

So Mark looked, searching for anything that seemed out of the ordinary, but there was nothing to explain the other boy's odd behaviour. He looked down at Jack in confusion. "There's nothing there, Jack."

"What are you talking about? Are you fucking blind?! He's standing right in front of your eyes. He's been following me everywhere, Mark. I swear he's coming to kill me, oh Jesus." Jack said all in a rush, obviously scared beyond comprehension, his eyes once again glued to the tree trunk.

Mark was helpless, unsure of what to do in a situation like this. Should he just play along with him and act like he could see it too? What the fuck was even happening?

"Who? Who's following you?" Mark finally managed, his eyes looking down on his friend in concern.

Jack looked up at him, frustration burning in his eyes. "Who the fuck do you think!? Jason, you idiot! He's right-" Suddenly the Irishman trailed off as he turned back to the tree, confusion clouding his features. "Where did he go?"

"Are you drunk, Jack?" Mark practically whispered in disbelief.

"Of course I'm not fucking drunk! I'm deadly serious, you need to believe me!" The green haired boy begged, his face the picture of fright.

"Even if he was here, what makes you think he'd be coming after you?" Mark asked, watching as his friend narrowed his eyes to look closer at the tree trunk like he was making sure there was nothing there.

"Because I just fucking know Mark! He's- he escaped from the police and now he's coming to kill me for getting him locked up. That's it. That has to be it. It's the only thing that makes fucking sense."

Mark opened his mouth to answer, his eyes wide with shock but he quickly shut it again when he spotted Felix weaving his way through the graves towards them. When the blonde man spoke it was gentle, obviously out of respect for Jack's mom. "Is everything alright?"

Mark watched as Jack carefully schooled his features into an expression that could pass as calm. "Please, don't tell him what happened. We'll talk later." Jack muttered, just low enough that Mark could pick it up without Felix hearing.

"Are you two coming? Marzia's in the car waiting." Felix urged them, keeping his eyes on Jack like he was a cornered animal that could attack at any moment.

Jack shot one more look towards the tree before turning to Felix with a grim smile and following him out of the graveyard. Mark walked behind the two, his mind swirling with what he'd just witnessed, silently praying it was just his friend's grief taking hold and not something else entirely.

***

As it turned out the young woman who had held Felix's hand during the funeral had a name. She was Marzia, Felix's pretty Italian girlfriend. The brunette shot the two younger boys a sympathetic smile when they reached the car, her long brown hair falling over her shoulders as her warm eyes tried to comfort them without words. She had a strong accent to her high pitched voice but Mark found he enjoyed the soft sound anyway.

The young woman even attempted to start some small talk with the pair, but Jack just ignored her altogether, leaving Mark to awkwardly compliment the girl and pray that her boyfriend wouldn't beat him up about it afterwards.

Speaking of Felix, he was the next one to speak, but it wasn't to Mark. "Jack, are you doing okay back there?" He asked as he glanced at the green haired boy in the rear-view mirror; taking in the boy's blank stare out the car window.

Jack shrugged, not bothering to look up. "I'll be fine, just gonna take some time."

Felix bit his lip before sharing a strange look with his girlfriend that seemed to give him the courage to say more. "Hey listen, Marzia and I've been talking. We think it might be best if you go visit a grief counsellor for a session or two, just to make sure you're coping with this okay. Marzia has a friend from college who's one of the best I know. I'm sure if we gave her a call she'd be happy to-"

Jack cut him off before he could continue. The green haired boy was sitting up straight, his anger obvious in the way he gathered the fabric of his shirt in his fists; the atmosphere in the car suddenly becoming electrified with tension. "As much as I appreciate the thought, Felix, I don't need a counsellor. I'll deal with this on my own, in my own way. Thanks anyway."

Felix sighed quietly, an almost desperate tone entering his voice. "Please, just go see her once to put my mind at ease. I'm just thinking about your health here. You and Sam were so close and now that she's gone...Well I worry about you, bro."

Jack glared straight back at the icy blue eyes staring at him with concern from the mirror. "I'm not going to see a fucking shrink, Felix and that's it. You should drop it, right Mark?"

He turned to Mark, obviously expecting the other boy to mirror his look of outrage at the very idea. However the dark haired teen was stuck with his mouth hanging half open, ready to agree with Felix that Jack probably did need help, what he'd witnessed in the graveyard running wildly through his mind. But for some reason the words caught in his throat.

It was just; he could see it in Jack's eyes. Mark could see the way they silently pleaded with him to not say anything and the teen was alarmed to find he couldn't force the words to leave his mouth.

Jack looked so fucking scared.

What came out was very different to what he meant to say. "Felix, leave it. I think if we give Jack time he can cope with this by himself."

The grateful look Mark's words received did little to stop the guilt churning in the pit of his stomach. Felix was glaring at him in the mirror, obviously pissed at being told what to do by someone as inexperienced and uninformed as Mark. Honestly the dark haired boy couldn't blame him.

Still, after a silent conversation with his girlfriend seemingly using only their eyes, Felix relented, letting out a sigh of defeat. "Fine, but if you ever want to talk to her just give me a call. I only want to help you, Jack."

Jack huffed quietly, looking out the window again, watching the world fly past. He looked deep in thought, his eyebrows pulled together with the intensity. "Could you drop me home? I want some time to myself if you don't mind."

Felix bit his lip, a doubtful look on his face. "Are you sure that's a good idea? After all we did just bury-"

Jack cut him off sharply. "I know. I'm not going to do anything stupid, just want to be on my own to think things over. If you don't take me home I'll just walk there anyway, your choice." The green haired boy said, leaving Felix no choice but to agree to the 5 minute detour.

Mark watched as Jack climbed out of the car and slipped into the house, hands dug deep into the pockets of his navy jeans. Perhaps things would've turned out differently if he'd gone in after the green haired teen, kept him company like he so yearned to do.

I suppose we'll never know what would've happened, because the car's engine fired up and Mark was left to look miserably out the window, nothing but guilt and regret in his thoughts as the first droplets of rain began to smack against his window. Too little, too late.

***

The next day, of course Mark was shoved into school by his Mom, who was in a weirdly cheerful mood, a fact that admittedly made Mark quite uneasy. She even gave him a hug before he left the car and laughed when he asked her was there something wrong. It was strange.

As he walked through the corridors, backpack slung onto his right shoulder, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, and it didn't take him long to figure out why.

Everywhere he went his fellow students, some of whom he'd known for years, were stopping to stare before quickly turning to their friends to whisper excitedly behind their hands. At first Mark didn't particularly mind, just thinking it was some of the aftermath from his fist fight with Ethan Gardener the other day.

That was, until he started to overhear what they were really saying. The truth was, they weren't even talking about him, it was Jack who was setting the school abuzz with news; and as you can imagine, none of it was good.

_"Sean McLoughlin? Nah I heard he got expelled for drinking on school property. What else could you expect, right? That's the Irish for you..."_

_"Seriously?! Did you hear about his mom? Yeah, Judy told me he fucking drove her to suicide. He was **that** much of an asshole to her. Like, I knew he was moody and everything but wow..."_

_"What are you talking about? She didn't commit suicide, you idiot. I heard she was just thrown into a padded cell somewhere, locked up and the key thrown away. She was fucking insane and I'd bet it runs in families..."_

_"Mark? Yeah he turned into a real douchebag after he started talking to McLoughlin. No, we used to be friends. I don't know what possessed him to do it. He must have some serious issues..."_

Okay, so maybe there were a few people talking about Mark, but the only one Mark had really heard so far was Wade, sitting at a table beside a girl that the half-Korean vaguely recognised as a friend of Ashley's.

It was no surprise to Mark that Wade was pissed at him; after all they'd had a rather explosive argument not long after Mark gave Ethan a punch in the face. Still, that didn't make it hurt any less to hear his ex-friend spreading shit about him like it was nothing.

Mark couldn't help but be a little thankful though. At least Jack wasn't here to listen to this slandering of his name, his family. It was absolutely disgusting how these people didn't even stop to listen to what they were saying because, if everyone else is saying it, it's fine right?

The bell had rang for lunch around 5 minutes ago, and Mark walked into the canteen, keeping his head down as he went. Mark had never been at the receiving end of one of the school's many vicious rumours before, but now that he was, he realised just why so many people hated it. He felt so singled out; so attacked. And he knew it was stupid to feel like he wanted to disappear just because some teenagers jumped up on fizzy drink were talking shit, but he couldn't help it.

Mark took his place at an empty table, admittedly feeling rather lonely as he munched on an apple. The dark haired boy had noticed the absence of Ashley Graham's flaming red hair in class today. He wondered idly where she was. Was she sick? Or was she just skipping? Now that he knew more about the kind of person she was, it could easily be either.

Suddenly Mark noticed how the warm buzz of conversation had stopped dead. You could slice the tension in the room with a knife as all eyes turned to the doorway, in which stood Jack McLoughlin.

Jack had always been on the skinny side, but now Mark could see how much weight he'd lost since they first met, his skin stretched over his bones almost paper thin. The bruises on his body could be seen for miles against the white of his complexion, and there were shadows under his eyes like he hadn't slept in days. If Mark hadn’t known any better he would’ve been scared of the skeletal figure in front of him. Jack looked sick in the sunlight that rained down through the windows. Very sick.

Why hadn’t Mark noticed it before?

A bolt of fear shot through Mark at the sight of his friend. What the fuck was he doing here?! No one was even attempting to be at all subtle in their staring with Mark so he could only imagine what Jack had to suffer through today. Mark's heart broke at the thought of the torment Jack was going through at the moment, nevermind adding school rumours on top of it all.

The dark haired boy stood up, ready to go to his friend and take him away from the prying eyes, but Jack simply looked about the silent room for a second, like he was taking every face individually and keeping it logged in his memory. Suddenly he turned on his heel, sprinting away from the scene at full speed.

Mark raced after him, ignoring the looks of distaste that he knew were shot at his retreating back; his heart thumping heavily in his chest and his legs hummed with muscle power as he ran after the green haired boy. He could only see the edge of Jack's jacket as it whipped around each corner; Mark knew he was heading for the exit.

"Jack! Jack, wait! Please!" Mark gasped as he ran, knowing he wouldn't be able to catch his friend in time.

Still he was ignored, and Jack just kept running, straight out the doors of his school, and Mark could do nothing about it except watch as he sprinted across the muddy grass and out the gates. Mark stood at the school exit, half bent and panting heavily greedily sucking air into his lungs again, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

It wasn't until school was over that Mark felt his phone buzz in his pocket; fumbling clumsily with the stupid thing as he drew it out. He had a message from Jack, and he sighed quietly with relief, glad to know his friend was alright; the worry had been eating at him all day. The message however was very simple.

**Tonight, your house, 11PM.**

**See you there.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god look! It didn't take me a fucking month! Yayyy I'm getting better :)
> 
> Okay so not gonna lie, I'm really nervous to post this shit but I've gone over it like 3 times and can't think of any way to change it. I've got it in my head that this only makes sense to me but to everyone else it's confusing af.   
> But hey, if it is please do tell me.   
> Also thank you so much for over 900 kudos! It's absolutely amazing!  
> Anyway, BYEEE!


	28. I never asked for  this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3

Mark P.O.V

Shuffling a little from foot to foot, Mark checked his watch for the fifth time in the last minute, unable to keep himself still as he watched the minute hand creep past the halfway marker. He sighed quietly at the sight. Safe to say Jack was late. Very late.

Mark wasn’t sure what to do with himself as he waited except allow his brain to wander to things he wished could just be left alone. Of course he didn’t want to remember Samantha McLoughlin’s shining smile or the autumn leaves landing softly on her coffin; Jack’s sharp face in the harsh sunlight as he held back his tears. Still, those were the images his brain supplied.

Mark shivered at the memories, checking his watch once again to distract himself. Jack still hadn’t appeared. Where was he? What was he doing? What was taking him so long? Had he gotten lost?

You see, Mark had sent Jack his address as soon as he realised the other boy probably had no idea where he lived. He wondered had Jack even bothered to check his damn phone to see if Mark had replied. Maybe he was just roaming the town aimlessly just a few feet from the dangers of the street. A bolt of fear went through Mark at the thought.

No. He was being stupid. This was Jack, the boy with a stupid smirk and a cocky attitude to match no other. Since when had Mark started thinking about him like he was so fragile? It was Jack. He could look after himself. Couldn’t he?

The house would only be empty for so long, and the thought make Mark fidget with the cuff of his sleeve anxiously. He’d barely been able to convince his mom and dad to go out for a date tonight, but if they caught Jack here with him, alone, Mark knew it would never happen again. Chances were his mom would take over again and boot him out of the house quicker than he could even think of the word ‘sorry’.

A knock at the door sent him back to earth with a jolt, immediately running over to the door and opening it without a second thought.

Of course Jack stood on the porch and Mark was struck for a second at how different Jack looked from when they first met. Jack’s once healthily round face was now drawn with sharp angles; his blue eyes had sunk deep into his face and they’d lost the shining spark of life that used to light up Jack’s entire face. Mark wondered sadly how long it had been gone before he actually noticed.

The green haired boy was panting harshly and his cheeks flushed a light pink like he’d ran all the way here, his phone clutched in his hand from where he’d probably double checked the address before knocking.

Mark opened his mouth to greet his friend, but was immediately cut off as the Irishman shoved his way into the warmth of Mark’s home without a word. The dark haired teen, although surprised by the abrupt behaviour, didn’t comment on it and instead quickly closed the door, whipping around to find Jack fixing him with those piercing eyes, staring at him with something close to pity.

Mark met his gaze firmly, waiting patiently for Jack to speak, unsure what to make of the odd behaviour. A few seconds of silence passed, ticking away like a small eternity in which the two couldn’t seem to look away; each trying to anticipate what the other would do next.

It was only when Jack did speak that he broke their little staring competition by adverting his gaze to the ground, biting his lip. “Mark, I-uh I’m leaving, tonight.”

Mark felt his heart drop to his feet. “You’re…what?” He practically whispered the words.

Jack sighed quietly, raising his eyes to meet Mark’s once again. “My Uncle wants to take me back to Ireland with him. He says he promised your mom he would or something.”

This information tumbled down on Mark like a sack of bricks, his eyes widening comically in his shock as his brain tried to process what it was hearing. The thoughts flying through his mind at a thousand miles an hour; Jack was leaving. Jack would be gone by tomorrow. He would never see Jack’s face again. And it was all thanks to his fucking bitch of a mother.

No wonder she was in such a fucking good mood.

“I was going to tell you at school today but uh, things got the better of me.” Jack said softly, scuffing his shoe awkwardly against the floorboards looking like a child who expected a scolding.

Mark bit his lip, unsure of what to say to such a statement. After all, what was he supposed to answer that with? I’m sorry? Please don’t go? I’ll miss you? God the more he went over it in his head the angrier he felt. Jesus when did he get so angry? What happened to him? It couldn’t possibly be normal to feel anger like this.  

“So is that why you came here?” Mark asked, not meaning for the words to come out so robotic; the sound far too dead and bitter to be anything Mark could even imagine leaving his lips. “Just to say goodbye?”

Suddenly a small smile began to tug at the corner of the green haired boy’s mouth, a half chuckle leaving his mouth as he raised his eyes to meet Mark’s, a cheeky glint in their blue depths. “Obviously not, you idiot. Of course I’m not listening to that old fart! No, there’s nothing left for me in Ireland, why would I want to go back? I can’t believe you thought I’d just let him take me.” There was laughter lighting up Jack’s face that did nothing to help the anger boiling dangerously hot in Mark’s stomach.

The dark haired boy found himself dumbfounded, confusion swiftly covering his features before giving way for irritation. “But then, why the hell come here? Did you think it would be a great fucking prank or something? You scared the fucking shit out of me!” The dark haired teen didn’t intend for his words to come out so loud or so frustrated, but they did, because he _was_ fucking angry. How could Jack do this? Was this some kind of test? Did he think Mark was just some kind of plaything to mess around with? God, he needed to calm down.

“Don’t be stupid, Mark. I’m getting the fuck out of this dead-end town right now, and I came here to ask you to come with me.” He said calmly, with an eye roll to add to the ‘duh’ tone of his voice. “It’s the only reasonable answer, Mark. We’re in danger here. We need to go, and quickly.”

Mark clenched and unclenched his fists to try and calm himself, the movement immediately followed by Jack’s eyes, flickering from Mark’s hands to his face. Suddenly Jack’s half-assed relaxed demeanour was tense, his face guarded and his eyes wary as they took in Mark’s expression. The dark haired boy stopped his action but Jack didn’t relax.

“What are you talking about, Jack? What kind of danger could we possibly be in?” Mark asked; a bite in his words that he honestly wasn’t expecting to be there that was enough to make Jack bristle like a fucking porcupine.

“Because of Jason, Mark! Don’t you get it? Whether he gets shoved in the slammer or not, we’re still in danger here.” Jack said firmly, a real hint of fear lacing his voice that made Mark shiver. “He wants me fucking dead. Do you really think a few years in prison will change that? All I’m asking for is a head start, with you.”

Mark’s only answer was to look at the other boy like he’d grown a second head to which the green haired boy sighed tiredly. “Do I have to prove it to you?” Jack asked, wrinkling his nose like this was causing him some sort of inconvenience.

The dark haired teen found he couldn’t keep himself calm in the face of such a situation. “Fine. Prove it.” He spat out, disbelief in every word which earned him a hurt look from Jack.

The green haired boy looked high strung; his eyes darting around the room like someone might be listening in before apparently making his mind up. Jack’s right hand carefully reached around to his back, seemingly pulling something out of one of his back pockets. Mark’s expression was confused for around 3 seconds before Jack brought his hand into view, now clutching the handle of a shiny, black pistol with a smirk plastered on his face.

“I bet you believe me now, don’t you?” Jack half laughed, holding the gun loosely like it was simply a plastic toy he’d picked up for a dollar at the store, but Mark knew different. The light glinted off the metal gun, turning Mark’s bitter anger into bolts of fear shooting up his spine like electricity. Oh God, Jack had a gun. A _real_ gun. What the fuck was happening?

Mark backed away from his friend a little, unable to help himself as his fear got the better of him. Jack was scaring him. Why was Jack scaring him? It was Jack for god’s sake. Jack didn’t scare him, or at least, he shouldn’t. He fought the impulse to put his hands in the air, doubting it would help the situation to give the other boy even more power.

“Jack,” Mark began quietly and carefully, almost stuttering on his words as he fixed his eyes on the weapon that was thankfully pointed towards the ground. “Where the fuck did you get that thing?”

Jack laughed a little, shaking his head; apparently completely oblivious to the fear in Mark’s wide brown eyes as they followed the object, not wanting it out of his sight for a second. He had no idea what to do, possible solutions rushed through his mind, each seeming more dangerous than the last. So Mark just stood there, his body frozen with his eyes glued on Jack’s response.

“Found it under Jason’s bed last night. It’s all the proof I need. He was just a few steps away from pulling the trigger on me while I slept.” Jack said simply, studying the gun in his hand with interest, his finger fiddling with the trigger.

Mark stared, unable to believe what he was hearing. “A lot of people own guns, Jack. It doesn’t mean he was going to-”

Jack cut him off before he could continue. “Anyway, it got me thinking. Cause, now that I’ve got this thing I can defend myself, Mark. Now I can finally get away.” Jack had a smile on his face, an echo of what his smile had one been. Of course it had never been that full, bright, genuine grin that came to most people naturally; but it had been better than this. Anything was better than this. “And I have a plan, a good plan; a whole new life just for the two of us. That’s why I need you to come with me. Please, just come with me.”

Mark closed his eyes so he didn’t have to look at Jack’s hopeful face anymore, running a hand through his hair as he thought everything over for a reason this wouldn’t work. “We have no money, Jack. Look, I’m skint and-”

Jack laughed lightly, a glow of triumph in his eyes like he knew he’d won. “Already thought of that!” He reached in a back pocket again, this time coming up with a thick wad of money tied with a rubber band. Mark wouldn’t be surprised if there was a good five hundred dollars in that bundle, his mouth dropping open at the sight of the cash in Jack’s hand.

“Where the hell did you get that?”  

Jack was positively beaming at him. “I took it from Megan’s bag today.” His smile dropped at the thought, the sudden change of expression sending a shiver up Mark’s spine. “She caught me doing it too. Fucking bitch called the cops on me. I don’t know why though, it’s not like she needs it like I do. She doesn’t deserve it. This is all her fault; she brought it all down on herself.”

Mark felt his heart sink at the words but Jack’s flat expression didn’t change. He was looking Mark in the eyes, yet at the same time he wasn’t. Those blue eyes were unfocused, looking into a different world, into a memory that Mark was glad he couldn’t see. Something was wrong with Jack. This wasn’t normal behaviour. Jack was so sick. Why was Mark just standing there? Fucking do something.

The muffled sound of sirens could be heard ringing through the walls, making Jack snap out of whatever dream he was in and his eyes widen in panic. “Mark! Are you coming or not?” He yelled, throwing his arms out, the gun pointing in wild directions that made Mark nervous.

Mark held both his hand up in front of himself, aiming to grab the gun when he got the chance. What if he let Jack hurt himself? He took in a deep breath. What if Jack hurt _him_?

“Jack, you need to calm down. You need help. We can-”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Jack’s eyes flared with a painful mix of hurt and betrayal. There was no kind of insanity in those amazing blue eyes, just a deadly deluded logic that could justify anything. Mark wondered if he’d prefer it if there were just madness there; if it would make things easier.

“So what, you think I’m crazy too?” Jack spat out, anger quickly replacing the pain on his face. “You’re supposed to be my fucking friend. I trusted you and now you’re just going to turn on me like this? What the fuck it wrong with you? You’re sick.”

Mark hated how much the words burned, setting in his skin like a brand. The sirens were getting closer, but they weren’t close enough, and whether he was aware of it or not, Mark wasn’t sure, that gun in Jack’s hand was currently pointing in the general direction of Mark’s stomach.

“Jack, I am your friend. I-” Mark began, his voice wavering in his fear and his hands staying up in surrender before he was cut off sharply.

“No you’re not! No you’re fucking not. Friends don’t abandon each other when they need each other most.” Jack’s voice was cracking and raspy, obviously fighting tears. “I thought you fucking cared about me! I thought we-” He stopped himself; closing his eyes and allowing one treacherous tear to fall.

“I was wrong.”

Mark’s heart was breaking. What the fuck was he doing hurting Jack like this?

However Jack’s next words made his blood run cold. “You're a liability, I should shoot you right now, you know.”

Mark’s eyes widened, his mouth going dry. He had no words. How the fuck do you answer something like that.

Police sirens rang out, they must be trying each door. Jesus, Mark could’ve built a car in the amount of time it was taking them to get here. By the looks of things they’d be too late. The green haired boy had his finger on the trigger and Mark had nowhere to run.

“Give me a reason why I shouldn’t.” Jack whispered his voice trembling as another tear escaped his eyes.

Mark opened his mouth but nothing came out. He didn't have it in him to say the words that needed to be said.

“Give me a fucking reason!” Jack yelled, his hands shaking as they tried to keep the gun steady.

“I- I don’t have one.” Mark muttered brokenly, closing his eyes and waiting for the pain. “It doesn’t matter what I say, it won’t change anything.”

The police were outside, the sirens so loud they were almost deafening but Mark could still hear Jack crying quietly and taking a few steps closer to where Mark stood. The half-Korean braced himself, squeezing his eyes tighter and waiting for the bang, running through his goodbyes as quickly as he could in his head.

He didn’t move when he felt a light pressure on his lips, just for a second, the ghost of a kiss resting on his mouth before it was gone.

“I’m so sorry.” Jack whispered as the police began to knock on the door, shouting loudly through the letter box and masking the sound of Jack taking a few steps back again. Mark couldn’t bear to open his eyes to look the other boy in the face and so he just waited. And waited.

And waited.

Nothing happened.

He only opened his eyes when a policeman was standing in front of him, shaking him and asking him what the hell happened, and tears were rolling freely down Mark's cheeks.

Jack really had gone, ranaway into the night, and he’d left Mark behind to pick up the pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Look who's updated!! I haven't checked any of this at all but I didn't want to make people wait any longer so here you go! I really hope this all makes sense and if anyone has any questions feel free to leave them in the comments and I'll definitely answer you :) btw from my calculations there's only like 2-3 chapters left of this story! omg I'm gonna be sad when it's over. Anyway I hope you enjoyed this chapter! BYEEEE!!


	29. The Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Warning: suicidal thoughts

**Jack P.O.V**

Night was falling by the time Jack managed to hitchhike his way a few towns over. He didn’t catch the name of the place, nor did he really care, but thankfully it seemed just quiet enough; not large enough to be called a town but still not small enough to be named a village and all in all quite similar to the one he’d just left. The buildings were mostly two storeys tall apart from a couple of apartment complexes that lined the edge of town and Jack had already earned himself a few strange glances from some of the locals as he walked along the pavement. It was probably the green hair that did it.

Still, he’d spotted a few local motels in the area that he could probably crash in later, but instead of going towards them immediately something else caught his eye.

There was a little children’s play park not far away from where his latest kind stranger dropped him off, a few little kids racing around and scrambling up the climbing frames, practically screeching with glee. Jack didn’t know why, but he found himself walking in through the little metal gate, the hinges squealing in protest as he did so and causing several of the children to glace up from their play to stare at him curiously.

He ignored them as best he could, keeping his eyes glued to the ground as he walked with his hands deep in his pockets over to a little wooden picnic bench, partially hidden by an overgrown clump of trees that had carpeted the ground with their amber leaves in the past few weeks. Jack’s feet crunched with every step he took before he sat himself down on the damp wood, hating the feeling of the water seeping through his trousers. The green haired Irishman sighed, holding his head in his hands as he listened to the distant obnoxious laughter echoing over from where the children played.

The truth was that running away didn’t feel as good as Jack thought it would.

Of course in books and movies everyone seemed to preach about how good a fresh start was and how you could build yourself a completely new life and identity from scratch with nothing more than determination and a certain degree of charm. Jack knew that wasn’t true; he wasn’t that stupid. But he had expected to feel at least a little better about where his life was going, he wanted to feel like he had a future now; a brighter one. That obviously wasn’t the case.

He felt like an absolute fucking coward.

Guilt sat in his stomach like a stone, the weight making his shoulders slump and his mind replying yesterday’s events on repeat like a broken record, a constant reminder of just how much he’d fucked things up. He found himself caught up in a never ending loop of self-pity and guilt that filled his head with bitter thoughts heavy with self-loathing and regret.

What the fuck was he thinking? He pointed a fucking gun at _Mark_. He’d had his finger on the fucking trigger and Jesus Christ he could’ve hurt his friend. He could’ve _killed_ him.

Huh, his friend. Could he really call Mark a friend anymore, after everything that had happened between them? I mean, their relationship was the definition of fucking complicated because all they ever seemed to do was argue with each other and make out afterwards. Does that really sound like a healthy relationship? I mean really? 

Jack rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. It didn’t matter anyway. Mark had to hate him after everything he’d done.

The green haired boy reached into his waistband and quickly removed the big lump of metal that was the source of his most recent fuck up. He set it on the table in front of him, just admiring the way the polished metal caught the light. Guns had never filled him with fear like they did other people however this was the first gun he’d ever touched. Hell, Jack had never even seen one in the flesh before, but he’d seen in action movies the basic mechanics of the things.

After Jack found the gun he’d pretty much just sat like this all night, looking at it, unmoving as his brain whirred, coming to conclusions and making plans.

Actually, he’d imagined himself and Mark in a town like this. He wanted them to be happy together, living in one of those two story buildings with a big dopey dog and 9 to 5 jobs that brought in the money enough to keep them afloat. He wanted to kiss the other man without the stupid niggling twinge of guilt in his stomach, and he wanted it all to last forever. Was that too much to ask for?

Well, it wasn’t what Mark wanted, obviously. To him Jack was just a fucking lunatic who should be locked away, because no one would believe him no matter how much emphasis he put into his words; not Megan, not Felix, not even Mark. They just looked at him with fucking pity and talked about how he should get help, get some meds, and talk to someone. They didn’t understand that he _was_ talking to someone; he was talking to them and they weren’t fucking listening.

He was right, and he knew it. Still, they refused to believe him, refused to understand. They didn’t want to go along with his plan. That’s why he was in this fucking situation, sitting on a picnic bench alone like a lost puppy. Mark was supposed to be here, that was the plan. Mark was supposed to be different. But, of course, he wasn’t.

That’s why he’d pointed this fucking thing. Because everything was going upside-down and Jack couldn’t let that happen. Not again.

He couldn’t get locked up in some hospital where all you got was enough drugs to knock out a baby elephant and a permanent label stuck on your back that said ‘nutcase’ in big bold writing. It was the kind of thing that followed you for life, something you couldn’t crawl back from. Everyone would look at him differently if they found out. Mark would think him as more of a freak than he already did.

Jack had seen it, he knew what would happen if he gave in and allowed himself to ‘get help’. That’s exactly why he was sitting at this fucking bench hitting a dead end in his life like a fat, ugly middle aged man having a crisis.

Slowly Jack reached his right hand out and picked the gun up, turning it over in his hands and studying the surface carefully.

Maybe he was crazy; he’d been noticing the little things, all the little changes in himself; but of course he had. After all, when his ma got sick all that time ago, he’d become so hyper aware of the little changes in his health that it nearly drove him mad. It softened after a few months; dulled down a little so that every time he coughed he didn’t half faint in panic; but it was always there, locked away in the back of his mind, noticing the little things.

Jack didn’t need a doctor to tell him he was sick, he knew perfectly well that he wasn’t a prime example of human health and he was working on it. He didn’t need a fucking shrink to tell him what was wrong with him after an expensive, soul draining half hour conversation that went nowhere. He can fix himself thank you very much.

The green haired man toyed with the pistol, his small hands obvious when holding the rather large object. It was remarkably heavy for something that looks so light.

Jack wasn’t even mildly surprised when the thought of ‘This seems like a nice place to die’ entered his mind.

I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? After all there was literally no one on this earth who would miss him, his funeral would be emptier than his mother’s and he would just be filed away as another suicide case; part of a fraction that politicians could flaunt in their speeches as evidence that their country was going down the shitter.

Honestly, to Jack that sounded better than going on like this; ruining the lives of everyone he met and on a one way road to getting locked in a fucking mental ward for the next fifty years. It would be better to quit while he was ahead.

Some said it was the coward’s way out; that it was selfish and disgusting, but Jack really didn’t care what people would say. He would be dead after all.

And wasn’t he all those things already?

He felt his grip tighten on the gun. Why not? Why not just do it? It would be a fucking relief for everyone he knew. Just do it.

A tear made its way down his face but of course that was hardly surprising. All he ever seemed to do is fucking cry like the oversized baby he was, obviously it would be too much to ask for him to die with that last little shred of dignity. He was supposed to be that tough guy in school yet here he was sitting on a picnic bench and crying over his pitiful life. Jesus killing himself really would be the best option.

He closed his eyes trying to focus himself, his grip on the gun tight enough to turn his knuckles white with one finger poised on the trigger. C’mon, just get it over with. One, two, thr-

“Are you going to kill yourself, or what?”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Jack yelled, the gun dropping from his hand and landing on the table with a clatter as he looked around for the source of the voice; adrenaline pumping in his veins in his shock as he shot up, nearly falling over his seat in his panic.

A tall, tanned woman was standing at the mouth of the little circle of trees, a little sky blue notebook held tightly in one hand. Surprisingly enough she was looking at Jack with a look of curiosity, not a hint of pity or fear in her dark eyes as she studied him carefully. “Well?”

Jack took in a shaky breath, looking from the woman to the gun on the table and back again. “That’s none of your business.” He said, cursing the tremor in his voice as he spoke.

She snorted before speaking again. “Of course it’s my business if a green haired idiot, such as yourself, decides to shoot themselves in my favourite place to draw.” Her accent was fast paced and foreign, reminding Jack of those beautiful beaches you see on post cards sometimes. Perhaps, Spanish or Italian?

Jack stared at her for a few seconds; a million emotions clashing on his face as she stared right back unflinchingly.

She could only be described as beautiful; smooth black hair whipping wildly in the cool autumn breeze, full lips and glinting dark eyes that seemed to stare directly into Jack’s soul. Her clothes were simple, a t-shirt and jeans with a cardigan pulled over for warmth but her jeans looked to be splattered with a substance that could’ve been paint but Jack couldn’t tell from this distance.

Jack stuttered over his words when he realised he was supposed to be saying something. “I-I suppose in that case, yeah, I was considering it.”

Her expression didn’t change; she only nodded her head a little before moving over to the bench with long confident strides. She honestly didn’t look much older than him, perhaps by a year or two at most. When she took her place at the table, Jack found himself sitting down next to her as she opened up her notebook and pulled a pencil seemingly out of nowhere.

They were silent for a while before the woman spoke again, calmly sketching something out in her notebook like there wasn’t a gun sitting on the table next to her. “So tell me, Greenie, why do you want to kill yourself so much?”

“Why do you want to know?” He asked, purposefully ignoring the nickname that he prayed wouldn’t stick.

“Humour me.” She said, still sketching out the outline of something Jack could make out.

“It- uh- it’s a long story-”

“Then stop stalling and just tell me it, huh?” She said, impatience radiating through her voice as she leaned over her little book, pencil scratching softly against the paper.

“No thanks, I’m not into giving my dumb sob story out to strangers.” The Irishman said quietly, not looking her in the eyes while he said it but instead looking down at the damp table.

“Well,” The woman said calmly, going over her lines heavier than before. “In that case I hope you weren’t expecting me to give you a big speech on how life is worth living, because you’re giving me nothing to work with here. 

Jack let a smirk tug at his lips. “That’s good; I don’t fancy a speech today.”

When he looked up, the woman was smiling at him showing off pearly white teeth. “I can respect that.” She said quietly, carefully closing up her notebook and standing up from the bench gracefully, taking a few steps towards the opening as she did so. “Tell you what; I’ll give you a proposition instead. My name is Zoe Perez and you can come with me if you feel like living a little longer, Greenie. But if you do, you can’t bring that gun; my parents don’t like them.”

Jack bit his lip, looking from the gun on the table and the pretty woman waiting patiently for his decision.

Now of course, choosing her would leave him with options; the chance of a home of his own and a job he didn’t completely hate plus friends he might not point guns at. With her he had a future.

Choosing the gun would mean a quick end to his problems and nothing more.

There was no choice, not really.

He took her hand.

***

Do you know what? For the next few weeks, Jack felt happier than he’d felt in years.

Zoe had talked her parents into giving him a job as a bus boy in their little B&B near the town centre so he was kept busy during the day and then she even took her kindness a step further; inviting him to sleep in one of the attic rooms for however long it took for him to get himself back on his feet no matter how much he protested.

It reminded him that there were good people out there in the world who were filled with such selfless kindness.

It gave him hope.

He grew closer to Zoe the more he got to know her and they fell into a comfortable routine that he adored. Not only was she beautiful but she was a fucking genius with a paintbrush; going to the small local college as an art student and pumping out piece after piece of beautiful art that eventually made its way onto the walls of the B&B.

Jack had one hanging in his room actually. Zoe had made it not long after he arrived; a landscape of a tall mountain littered with trees and flowers with a bright blue river rushing down the side to add an extra burst of colour. Even though Jack had never really been big into the art scene, he really loved it. It made him think anything was possible, if something as beautiful as that could exist in the same room as him for so long and not be destroyed by his presence alone.

Still, obviously he wasn’t always happy, that would be ridiculous. He missed Mark more than anything, and it hurt so damn much that he thought it was a physical burn in his heart by this point. As soppy as that sounds, it was the truth.

He had no idea at exactly what point in the few weeks they’d known each other it had happened, all he knew was that Mark had snuck his way into Jack’s life without his permission, and ended up having a massive impact on the green haired man, no matter how much Jack would like to deny it.

At night he found he couldn’t sleep properly thanks to the constant nightmares of Mark’s fury, the replays of his Ma’s funeral, the fucked up illusions his mind seemed to adore torturing him with almost every day.

He wanted nothing more than for Mark to be there, to see him getting better, to believe that he wasn’t the fucked up monster Mark probably thought he was. But it didn’t matter what Jack wanted. His phone was still back in Megan’s apartment and Mark didn’t care enough to look for him. What was the point?

This was supposed to be his chance at a fresh start and all that, or at least that’s what Zoe said, and sometimes, when he looked sad, Zoe liked to give him little pep talks to keep him going through the working day. Now, of course they didn’t always help, but he appreciated the effort all the same.

He’d seeing things more often recently; Jason looming at the end of his bed with a gun in his hand; his Ma’s vacant blue eyes overflowing with tears in the corner of the B&B’s little kitchen while Jack tried to talk to Zoe over the helpless wails; Mark’s terrified face scrunched up as he braced himself for pain that would come from Jack’s hands.

The green haired boy tried his best to keep it hidden though; keep it quiet. Only once or twice had Zoe actually noticed anything was wrong at all, and even then it was just something stupid that made her prick her ears up in concern. Something like, ‘Oh you’re being so quiet today’ or ‘Wow are you deaf or something?’ and she had no idea it was just because his dead Ma was crying too loud for him to hear her. She would never know, because he would never tell her. 

Funnily enough, she had never really asked about his past again since the day they met, even though he was sure the curiosity must be eating her alive. All she knew about him was his name and nothing else other than whatever opinions and presumptions she’d made during the time he’d spent with her and her family. It was nice. It meant he didn’t have to worry about remembering, and just try to get on with life for a while.

It felt good to forget, even for just a little while.

It reminded him of what it felt like to kiss Mark when everything was going to shit around them. Fuck, he missed Mark so much.

Zoe’s ma, a cheerful, rather chubby lady who spoke only in wonderfully broken English with a heavy Spanish accent; quickly noticed how little Jack ate at meals, taking note of how he’d normally only taking a few forkfuls of whatever delicious concoction they were having before unceremoniously dumping the rest of his food on Zoe’s plate with a grateful grin. Therefore she made it her personal mission to fatten him up again; constantly complaining about his skinny legs and arms like they were something he should be worrying about.  

Anyway, none of that mattered. Jack felt truly happy here.

That is, until today.

Today Zoe kept giving him weird looks. She didn’t smile at him like she did every other morning and instead studied him like he was a puzzle she could never solve.

He let it go on until his lunch break during which he pulled her aside, concern written all over his face. “What’s up with you today?” He asked, softly so Mr Perez who stood at the front desk wouldn’t hear. “You’re acting weird.”

She bit her lip, fidgeting a little with the cuff of her cardigan which sent a painful stab of pain into Jack’s heart. _Mark did that too._

“Do you- um…” Zoe began, trailing off as she picked her words carefully. “You know when you talked about your sob story, yeah?”

Jack nodded, unsure as to where this was going.

“Well…did that sob story happen to include a man called Mark? Mark Fischbach?” She asked hesitantly, eyes scouring his face for a reaction which she of course got.

Jack impulsively grabbed her by the shoulders, shocking her a little at the unexpected contact but he was too dumbfounded to care. “How the fuck do you know that name?”

She gave him a pointed look to which he quickly released her, but then she smoothly leant over the reception desk, retrieving a piece of paper. On it was a picture, a low quality picture of Jack peacefully asleep with his head resting comfortably on something that looked suspiciously like one of Mark’s T-shirts, the picture carefully cropped so anything else in the picture was no longer visible.

His green hair was a mess, his face was slack with sleep and he was half curled into what Jack could only presume was Mark’s prone body. All in all it was a pretty bad picture of him, but Jack decided he could complain about that at a later date.

Jack felt his mouth go dry and his heart drop to his feet. Who the fuck took this picture? Was this some sort of joke? He glanced up at Zoe, his mouth hanging open in shock before looking back down at the paper, now taking the time to actually read the damn thing, the black handwriting standing out starkly against the white paper. His hands were shaking.

**MISSING**

_Sean (A.K.A Jack) McLoughlin, (pictured above)_

_Blue eyes,_

_Green hair,_

_18 years old,_

_Irish Accent,_

_Has been missing for several weeks._

_If found, please return to Mark Fischbach by calling 34607 590037 and if you have any further information on the disappearance please don’t hesitate to contact us using the same number._

_Mark misses you, Jack. Please come back. We need to know you’re safe._

Jack bit his lip, trying to keep his emotions under control the way he used to so easily. He tried to wipe his face clean of everything he was feeling, but one glance at Zoe told him he was an open book.

“Wh- where did you get this?” He half whispered hating the way his voice cracked on the words. His brain was turning to mush with all these emotions, relief mixing with confusion and guilt intertwining with joy. His heart was beating at a million times its normal rate, and Jack was amazed no one else could hear it as it pounded against his ribs. Oh God, Mark was looking for him. Mark _missed_ him.

Zoe gave him a hesitant smile, obviously unsure if showing him this had been the right thing to do. “I- A man came in here at 5AM and Papa was the one who spoke to him. I only know what he told me.” She stared at him for a few long seconds. “Jack…It’s you they’re looking for, isn’t it?”

Jack nodded silently, completely lost for words. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say?

Suddenly he felt Zoe grab his hand and press something gently into it. He looked down to find himself holding her mobile and gave her a look full of gratitude. He hoped she knew just how much she meant to him, even if he never said it properly, he hoped she knew.

“Call him.” She said, a small version of her normal smiles lighting up her pretty face. “You can’t keep him waiting any longer. Go home.”

Jack closed his hand around the phone, letting out a sigh. “I- I ugh need some air. Back in a minute.” He forced out, already making his way up the stairs to his ‘bedroom’, his mind whirring with too many thoughts to even realise how little sense his excuse made.

***

It took him ten minutes to get the number into the phone. Another ten to even consider pressing the call button at all.

He just stared at that phone, the number lighting up the screen, and ended up scaring himself shitless by imagining this phone call as a massive turning point in his life, like the critical point in movies where everything was going well until that one phone call. He was hyping it up so much in his head so much it looked like he would never actually press the damn button.

But he did.

Eventually.

“Hello?” That was Mark! Oh god it felt so good to hear Mark’s voice again. Jack felt himself start to shake hopelessly, a dry sob escaping his mouth without his permission.

“Hello? Are you alright?” Mark asked, this time his voice holding that concerned tone it had always held when Jack was in hard times. He couldn’t do this, Jesus Christ speak! Why was his mouth not working all of a sudden?

“I- I” Jack began, unable to force the words out any faster. “I miss you…so fucking much.” He chocked.

He heard something crash on the other side, like Mark had dropped a glass. “Jack? Oh my god, Jack!” He basically yelled into Jack’s ear but Jack didn’t care. He’d never been happier to hear someone speak in his entire life, and that was fucking terrifying in itself but he didn’t look too far into it. It was Mark! Mark was talking to him!

“I’m so sorry, for everything.” Jack finally blurted out, hating the tears of joy rolling down his cheeks like he was on one of those soaps that people obsessed over.

“What do you mean?” Mark asked, genuinely confused. “I don’t care. You’re safe! You’re talking to me! You have no idea how happy I am.”

Jack closed his eyes, basking in the happiness that swelled in his chest. “I’m mean that I’ve missed you so much. I never stopped missing you this whole time and I didn’t even try to contact you. I'm sorry I think I’m falling in love with you and-”    

Jack cut himself short, his mouth dropping open at his own words. He wasn’t aware of this. What the fuck was it doing coming out of his mouth like he fucking meant it to happen?

He waited tensely for the response, but none came only a shocked silence that made Jack feel like throwing himself out a window.

“I-I’m so sorry, I-I’ll just- I have to go.” He stuttered. Oh fuck now he’d done it. Mark would really hate him now after all this shit and then making a declaration like that. What was he thinking? Then again that was probably the problem, he wasn’t thinking at all.

“I think I’m falling in love with you too, Jack.” Mark said quietly but firmly, barely audible in the phone’s bad quality. But Jack still heard it and his heart soared at the words.

“I’m falling in love with you and I’m coming right now to pick you up from wherever the fuck you are. Give me the address. I’ll see you soon.” Mark promised with enough determination in his voice to with an Olympic medal.

For once in his life, Jack believed.

And the future had never looked brighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WROTE THIS AT LIKE 3AM YESTERDAY AND OMFG I KNOW IT FEELS SO DRAGGED OUT AND BORING BUT I DON'T FUCKING CARE CAUSE I WANTED TO GET A CHAPTER OUT AND THIS IS LIKE 4K WORDS OF SHIT SO TADAAAAA IM GETTING BETTER. Also I'm sorry if I offended anyone with the whole 'sucidal' thing. I'm not experienced with it and thought I'd never write about it, but that's just where this chapter went and I'm very sorry. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it all the same :)


	30. The Reason Why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1

Mark's P.O.V

Mark was practically bouncing in his seat, his whole body thrumming with energy as unfamiliar landscapes flew past his window; his fingers tugging at the loose threads of his jacket sleeve like he couldn’t bear to keep himself still. Felix was in the driver’s seat, a small grin stuck on his face even though his eyes stayed firmly on the road in front of him, occasionally flickering up to the rear-view mirror to assess Mark’s expression of barely concealed excitement.

Suddenly Mark felt a light slap at his hand, making his movements stop. “Mark, stop it! You’re driving me mad with your stupid fidgeting.” Carrie huffed, folding her arms and giving him a half-hearted glare before leaning back in her seat and looking forwards once more, head held high.

Mark raised an eyebrow at her defiantly, a smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. “Or what?”

She rolled her eyes playfully, a little grin edging its way onto her face. “Just you wait until we get your boyfriend. I’ve got enough embarrassing stories from our childhood to fill a book and I’m gonna tell him them all.”    

Mark felt the blood rush to his cheeks as he looked down at his lap, not wanting to meet her gaze as he spoke. “He- He’s not my boyfriend.”

It was Carrie’s turn to raise an eyebrow, a look of disbelief on her face. “Are you seriously gonna try feed me that bullshit? Cause I’ve got a picture of you two cuddling on his bed to prove it.”

Mark shot her a glare. “That doesn’t prove anything!”

She looked at him, a smug smirk taking over her features as she messed around lazily with her long hair. “That, and I may or may not have over-heard your heart warming exchange over the phone earlier.”

Mark let out a groan, a hand going over his face to hide his embarrassment. “Oh God please tell me you didn’t.”

Carrie let out a light laugh, obviously enjoying torturing her big brother. “Oh yes I did.” She made her voice deeper in a crude imitation of Mark’s voice, throwing a hand up to her forehead and pretending to swoon as she spoke. “‘I’m falling in love with you too, Jack.’”  

At this Felix perked up in the front seat, having obviously been listening the entire time, a mischievous grin lighting up his features. “Did he really say that?”

The dark haired girl laughed as the blush rose up from Mark’s neck to paint his entire face a rosy red. “He sure did. I swear I nearly puked, it was disgustingly cute.”

Mark huffed, silently cursing the two in the car as they chuckled quietly to themselves. Of course he wasn’t upset that Felix and Carrie got along. His problem was that they got along _too_ well. He couldn’t deal with this level of teasing.

“Hey, we’re nearly in town. What was the address again?” Felix asked, directing his question towards Mark who quickly pulled out his phone and read out the address, excitement bubbling in his stomach once again as his sleeve fell victim to his none stop fiddling. This time Carrie didn’t even bother stopping him.

Mark stared out the window, straining to catch a glimpse of green hair for the first time in a good month and a half. His foot started to jump up and down despite his best efforts, urging the car to go faster. They were so close goddammit.

“Check it out; he’s brought the whole family to come meet you and everything.” Carrie said, her head bent at an awkward angle as she looked out the window on the opposite side of the car.

Mark glanced at her with confusion before looking for himself. She was right. Jack was standing outside what could’ve been a motel or a B&B of some description, a soft wind rippling through his hair and whipping through his clothes.

Beside him, and obviously speaking to him, was a beautiful young woman dressed in a plain white blouse and black trousers, her dark hair untied and dancing wildly in the breeze. Lurking in the doorway of the little building was an older couple who eyed the car as it parked carefully on the sidewalk; Mark was sure he recognised the man, probably having handed him a poster at some point to put in his window.

Now that he was actually here, for some reason Mark felt nerves creeping their way into his head, filling it with doubt and fear for what was about to happen. His hand was on the door and he climbed out, ignoring the thoughts that raced through his head as best he could.

Jack had taken a few steps towards the car but had stopped, apparently just as hesitant as Mark was. He was staring at Mark, biting him lip and just taking him in for a few seconds.

Mark’s heart pounded in his chest. Jack looked so much better than he remembered. His face was at least a little fuller and held the healthy flush of colour it had so lacked before; his blue eyes shining with an indescribable cluster fuck of emotions. Oh God he looked so good in those clothes that he obviously hadn’t chosen himself; a bright, almost neon, blue shirt paired with a pair of loose dark trousers and a warm looking grey jacket.

Suddenly Jack’s face broke out into a hesitant smile and the tension in Mark’s muscles relaxed a little, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

Jack didn’t just look good, he looked safe, healthy and most importantly he wasn’t curled up in a ditch in the middle of nowhere, half dead, like the picture Mark’s brain had painted in such minute detail for him during the past few weeks. No Jack was here. He wasn’t in danger, he was being fed and taken care of like he so needed. He was happy here.

What was Mark doing trying to take him away?    

The tense silence between them was suddenly broken when the woman beside Jack rolled her eyes with an impatient huff, walking over to him and giving him a light shove forwards. “Would you just go over and get your man already? Fucking hell, you two are hopeless.”

Jack one step, then another and soon he was running towards Mark who only caught on to what was happening at the last second, opening his arms to catch the shorter boy and wrap him in a tight hug; the other boy’s face pressed firmly into his shoulder and his hands gripping his shirt.

Mark had never felt such exhilaration from such a simple movement, yet Jack was here, really here and the happiness that thrummed through Mark’s system at that thought alone was incredible. He thought he’d lost him, never to be seen again, and yet here he was.

Jack was shaking in his arms but Mark only held him tighter, rocking them gently back and forth as quiet words fell from his mouth in a barely audible whisper into Jack’s ear, a hand coming up to run through green hair. “Thank God you’re okay. You’re okay, you’re fine, I’m here, oh my God you’re okay.”

“I can’t believe you actually came looking.” Jack murmured softly, his voice muffled by Mark’s shirt.

Mark closed his eyes a chocked laugh escaping his mouth as he tried to hold back stupid tears that threatened to fall. “I can’t believe I nearly didn’t.”

***

It was true, painfully so.

In fact, of all people, it was Carrie Mark had to thank for actually finding Jack at all.

See, during the weeks after Jack’s ‘disappearance’ he’d done nothing but sink into a dark and sticky pit of self-pity, effectively holing himself up in his room so he wouldn’t need to face his family or his school or the light of day, ever again.

The police had given up looking for the green haired boy after about the first week of searching, apparently positive he’d left the country despite the fact Jack didn’t bring his passport; they just wanted the case to be closed quickly without a fuss and Mark honestly couldn’t blame them. Still, Jack’s Uncle couldn’t stay in the country any longer than he already had, his job in jeopardy if he didn’t get back, so Megan and Damien took the next flight to Dublin with no hope of Jack being there; leaving him behind in the dust.   

Meanwhile Mark’s mind had spiralled into a repeating cycle of ‘what ifs’ and ‘I should’ve’, he couldn’t believe he’d allowed what had happened to happen without doing something, anything, to stop it. He’d felt so useless, so empty and so sorry for himself, he couldn’t think of anything else and it only dragged him deeper into the quicksand of the past.

Honestly, to put it bluntly, he was far too busy being no help to anyone for the thought of finding Jack to even cross his mind. But Carrie wasn’t in anywhere near such a state, and thankfully she’d been the one to drag Mark out of his room and essentially give him the kick in the ass he needed to try and do _something_.

She’d even convinced him the posters were a good idea, showing him the picture she’d snapped of them a few nights ago in hope of future blackmail when she’d gone up to fetch Mark and found the two in such a ‘cute’ position.

Carrie had even written the posters herself, which Mark deeply regretted letting her do without supervision, (“ _Please return to_ \- He’s not a fucking lost puppy, Carrie. Change that.”) To which she’d only plucked the poster daintily out of his hand, laughing and replied, (“Yes he totally is! Just look at that picture, it practically screams lost puppy. I’m not changing it now, tough shit.”).

It did work, Mark supposed, but letting her take over the situation probably hadn’t been the best idea. Still, this was Carrie, she really did enjoy being in charge. That’s why she’d come today actually, to watch her work become worth it.

After a few long seconds Mark released Jack from the cage of his arms, allowing him to take a step back and watched as he wiped his eyes, a little smile growing on the green haired boy’s face. “I don’t even care so long as you promise not to make anymore pictures of me sleeping public. Got it, Fischbach?”

Mark smiled fondly, holding out his hand with the palm facing up, his grin only widening as Jack reached out to thread their fingers together. Oh gez hopefully Jack wouldn’t notice just how sweaty his hand was right now. “I promise.”

Suddenly Mark noticed a shadow coming up behind Jack, a hand landing lightly on the green haired boy’s shoulder and effectively breaking the moment as both men turned to look at the pretty dark haired woman who Mark hadn’t caught the name of.

“I get it that you two are having like, a moment and everything, but do you fancy moving it out of our driveway and into the house?” She gave Jack a big smile along with half a hug before continuing, looking at Mark steadily with a question in her eyes. “My parents would like to invite you in for lunch. Mama wants to give Jack here a good send-off before you take him back.” She gestured towards the now empty doorway and Mark didn’t even hesitate, curiosity overwhelming him.

What had Jack been doing all this time? What had Mark missed? He had to know, and this was a sure-fire way to get straight to the facts.

“Yeah sure we can stay.” Mark said, unable to stop smiling at the way Jack’s hand was still locked in his grip. He gave it a slight squeeze and almost jumped for joy when he got one in return, overwhelming happiness flooding his system at the comforting reassurance that the other boy was really there. They’d really found him.

Life was good.

***

Convincing your friend they needed help was one thing.

Convincing someone you love to get help was something else entirely.

Or at least that’s what Mark thought as he shuffled uncomfortably where he sat, the tension in the room so thick you could cut it with a knife. “C’mon Jack, it won’t be that bad, I promise.” He said softly, trying to comfort the green haired boy.

Jack kept his glare towards the floor, refusing to meet Mark’s eyes in his anger. “Yes it fucking will, stop talking to me like I’m a child. I know what you’re asking and the answer is still _no_. Just like it has been every other time.”

Mark bit his lip, watching Jack carefully.

It had been a week since they’d found Jack and brought him home, and in that week Mark certainly hadn’t missed the way Jack’s eyes occasionally darted away from him when he spoke to fix on something invisible in the corner of the room. He hadn’t ignored the way Jack’s hearing every so often disappeared. He had heard his friend’s muffled whimpers in the middle of the night and they tore him apart every single time.

He wasn’t completely stupid. Mark knew Jack wouldn’t be miraculously cured just because he took a couple of weeks’ vacation, it didn’t work like that, in fact if anything his little trip away from home had only changed the nature of what was happening and it fucking scared him that Jack was hiding this from him. Trying to pretend everything was fine when it so obviously wasn’t.

That’s why they were here. Sitting in Felix’s rather cosy home with the sweet smell of lavender and freshly baked bread (Marzia’s personal touches to the home) surrounding them. They were sitting opposite each other this time, it being the third time they’d had this conversation this week, each attempt never getting far before resulting in a door slamming argument, it was probably best to keep their distance for this one in the hopes of a different outcome. Maybe giving Jack some space to think would do him good and make this easier.

Felix had been kind enough to take both Jack and Mark into his home, Mark for pretty much the week and Jack for however long it took to get him into an apartment of his own. Right now, that looked like a rather far off dream but still, one can hope.

“Please Jack, while you were…away I talked to Felix about this and he sai-“

Jack snorted unattractively. “Yeah, yeah we both know Felix’s side of this. He thinks I’m a fucking psycho that needs professional help and all that. What’s your point?”

Mark opened his mouth to retort with a sharp comment that may or may not have been a jab that included the words ‘why the fuck shouldn’t he’ but bit his tongue. “Well, if everything’s fine then why not go? Just to prove us wrong? C’mon Jack it won’t last any more than an hour at most. It’ll be in this house, it’s not like you have to go anywhere. Please, just one session. For me?”

Jack was still looking at the ground but Mark could tell he was thinking over the words, practically able to see the wheels turning in the other boy’s head as he thought. Mark was surprised at how well this was going. He’d never actually gotten past the whole ‘Would you consider going to therapy, Jack?’ before they started an argument about three sentences in; nothing that lasted more than a few hours though, thankfully.

“Tell you what, if you promise to try a one hour session I’ll…I don’t know, I’ll dye my fucking hair to match yours.” Mark finally blurted out, trying desperately to think of some way to convince the other boy but immediately regretted the decision. Where the fuck did that come out of?

Jack looked up at him, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Why do you think that would convince me?”

Mark shrugged hopelessly. “I don’t know, you can pick the colour? I bet you’d get a good few months to laugh at me before it washes out.” God fucking dammit he was digging himself a hole he couldn’t get out of.

The side of Jack’s mouth twitched upwards at the thought, a little glint of mischief glistening in his blue eyes. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. You’d look amazing with hot pink.”

Mark rolled his eyes at the comment, silently praying to himself that it was indeed just a joke, but chose not to say anything, giving Jack time to think it over for himself and assess his options. Hey, at least he was considering therapy as an option this time. That was a big development in its own right.

It took a good few minutes, but eventually Jack spoke again. “Will you let her take me away?” Jack asked, so quietly Mark almost missed it in the midst of his thoughts.

“God no. I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again.” The dark haired man said firmly, hopping up out of instinct and plopping down beside the other boy on the black mock-leather couch, giving him a gentle, reassuring nudge with his elbow. “You’ll never get away from me now.” He muttered jokingly, emphasising his point by shuffling closer; joining them from shoulder to hip.

Jack laughed softly, leaning into the touch and resting his head gently on Mark’s shoulder; their hands slotting together without a second thought. They’d been doing this all week; this casual touching that neither of them dared to comment on just incase they broke whatever magical spell that had floated over them in the night. Mark didn’t want it to stop; somehow it just felt so right to keep things the way they were. Their relationship had become so much bigger and complicated than cheap labels at this point. Mark never wanted that to change.

After a few beats of silence, Jack spoke, his voice smaller than anything Mark thought was capable of escaping his mouth. “Mark…Can I ask you something?”

Mark nodded silently, worried that if he spoke he could drown out whatever thoughts were pouring through Jack’s mind at the moment that he needed to spit out.

“What…what happens if I go to this woman and she says I’m so fucked up in the head she can’t fix it? I-I mean, what do we do then? Does everyone just go back to normal and pretend I’m not a nutjob? Because I’m not okay with that.” Jack practically whispered, each word filled with so much pain it physically hurt Mark to hear.

Mark looked down at his lap where their clasped hands rested on his thigh. “No. If that happens we find a way to work around it. But I don’t think you’re unfixable, Jack. I just think you need to give yourself time to heal whatever’s broken.”    

Jack had the tiniest of smiles playing on his mouth when Mark turned his face towards him, their noses hovering barely an inch away from each other.

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting something so profound.” The Irishman said quietly with his smile growing into a little smirk as he spoke. “Can’t say I’m complaining though.” 

With a short, soft laugh Mark closed the gap, pressing his mouth to Jack’s, the kiss sweet and simple. It was a little clumsy as their kisses always seemed to be, but Mark cared as little this time as he did every other, loving the way Jack moved soft lips against his own with no real heat behind it, just sharing innocent and gentle kisses like-. Well like a proper couple. Which they were not, he reminded himself sternly.

But as is often the case with those innocent little kisses, things quickly became more heated as Jack’s other hand reached up to cup Mark’s face, his tongue brushing against his lips for only a second before Mark opened his mouth willingly, his heartbeat picking up in his chest and blood rushing to his cheeks as the kiss heated up. The dark haired man allowing his hands to freely run up and under the fabric of Jack’s shirt, touching the warm, smooth skin of his back and drinking in the feeling of having Jack so close. Suddenly Jack broke the kiss to throw the shirt out of the way completely, revealing a slim frame with obvious hard muscle shifting under his pale skin.

And sure, his ribs were a little more obvious than they would’ve been a few months ago and Mark could easily count them if he wanted too, but that didn’t mean he didn’t lose his breath as he took in the incredible sight, unable to believe his own luck before Jack pulled him into a rough and surprisingly hungry kiss that left him gasping desperately for air. Jack changed their position, smoothly straddling Mark’s lap and sitting himself comfortably on his thighs, digging his hands into his hair to make Mark groan without even breaking contact.  

Of course the stupid fucking door had to open.

“I haven’t heard anything in a while…I swear have you two actually gone and killed each oth- Holy fuck!” The door slammed shut again, leaving the two panting teenagers to share panicked looks, bodies frozen where they’d broken apart at the sound of Felix’s voice, Jack still awkwardly perched on Mark’s lap as they listened for further sounds of movement.

The door opened a crack, not enough for someone to fit through but enough so they could hear the Felix’s next words clearly. “No sex on my couch.” The Swedish man ordered, probably meaning to sound strict and firm like a proper adult but failing spectacularly. “You fuck on that couch; you’re sleeping on the streets, understood?”

It was only after he’d escaped into the kitchen that the two teens broke down into badly concealed fits of laughter. Jack had his face buried in Mark’s shoulder, his body shaking hard with his loud chuckles.

When they finally calmed down Jack kept himself there, his arms wrapped around Mark in an awkward kind of semi-hug and his face hidden in the fabric of his shirt. Mark could feel his hot breath on the skin of his neck as it went straight through the cloth making him supress a shiver.

“Fine, I’ll go to one stupid session, alright?” Jack finally muttered. “Just one.”

Mark smiled, pulling the green haired boy into a tight hug that held more meaning than a thousand words ever could.

*** 

Jack kept true to his word and a session with Marzia’s college friend, Ava, was scheduled for the next day.

As it turned out, ‘Ava’ was a rather short, black woman with long, thick dark hair pulled into intricate braids against her head and a pair of thin, rather delicate looking glasses balanced precariously on the end of her nose. She dressed casually, black jeans paired with a pale blue blouse; a thick leather jacket pulled on top to protect her from the cool weather. She looked older than her actual age, which Mark assumed would be similar to Marzia’s, the shadows under her eyes ageing her by decades.

Mark didn’t speak to her much, not much appreciating the way her eyes seemed to pin him in place and pick him apart piece by piece. He hated to admit how truly terrified he was of the woman who, despite being shorter than him, seemed to tower over him with her presence alone, looking down at him with eyes like lasers.

He only had to stick around long enough to introduce himself and then retreated from the situation as quickly as he could without raising suspicions as Felix and Marzia talked quietly to her, sharing occasional laughs now and again like the old friends they were.

Honestly Mark almost felt sorry for Jack when he watched the domineering woman make her way over to the guest bedroom where he was sitting alone, waiting patiently

Mark found himself fiddling with his cuff like he had done so often before. When Mark had talked to Jack about a counsellor he’d always thought of a doctor-esque, perhaps slightly hippie, blonde woman in a dress suit; not this. Oh God what if Jack felt as uncomfortable with Ava as Mark did? What if this whole thing just made everything worse? What if his attempts to help Jack heal would only hinder him? Mark’s stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought.

He eventually moved himself into the heart of the little house, the kitchen, where Marzia and Felix sat in whispered conversation. They both looked up as soon as Mark walked through the door, the room falling into a dead silence that was only broken by the sharp tick tock of the clock that made Mark shudder.

Felix didn’t even say a word, just calmly stood up and started to pour water into a mug from the already boiled kettle, gesturing for Mark to take a seat. “They’re gonna be a long time, bro. Might as well have a cup of coffee with us while you wait.”

The dark haired boy nodded dumbly, never before as thankful for such a simple distraction as dull small talk, forcing himself to focus on the scalding hot drink clutched in his hands seconds later and not even glance at the clock once.

So obviously Mark was staring dumbly at the clock when Ava finally returned, her flats slapping loudly on the floorboards of the kitchen to announce her arrival. Jack trailed behind her looking both physically and mentally drained, exhaustion dragging his shoulders down into a slouch. Mark pretended not to notice the drying tear tracks that were still lining the other boy’s cheeks but he felt a stab of guilt all the same.

 _Now look what you’ve done_ , a devious little voice in the back of his mind whispered unhelpfully. _Jack’s crying and it’s all your fault. Are you happy now?_

Mark shook the thought away as Ava smiled at the group, looking rather tired out herself but still triumphant. “Alright, that’s us done for today. Jack has kindly agreed to another session in about a week, will that suit you?”

She directed her last question at Felix who looked absolutely overjoyed at the words, immediately guiding her over to where Marzia stood with a freshly brewed cup of tea already prepared for the counsellor in congratulations.

Meanwhile Mark made his way over to Jack, stopping just in front of him with a comforting smile on his face. “Well? Was that really so bad?” He mentally slapped himself. No shit it was bad, you idiot, what a stupid fucking question.

Jack snorted, wiping at his face with the backs of his hands so the tear tracks were no longer visible. “Yeah, it kinda was.” He looked up at Mark for a few seconds before an impish grin lit up his face and he reached up a hand to ruffle the other boy’s dark locks. “The picture of you with bright pink hair was the only thing that got me through.”

Mark groaned, pulling a face at the thought. “Oh shit you’re not serious, are you?”

Jack chuckled playfully, those eyes of his sparkling with malicious intent in the best way. “Of course I’m serious! I held up my end of the bargain now it’s your turn, asshole. I’m getting Marzia to buy the hair dye as soon as the witch leaves.”

“I heard that, Jack.” Came Ava’s disapproving voice from across the room.

Jack pulled a face. “Woman’s got the ears of a bloody elephant.”

“I heard that too.”

Jack shrugged giving Mark a smirk. “See what I mean?”

***

Safe to say Mark had quite the shock when he looked in the mirror the next morning to see a huge clump of strong smelling, bright pink hair on top his head. Marzia had indeed gone out to the store with Jack and bought perhaps the brightest neon pink they could possibly find and proceeded to lather Mark’s innocent hair in the stinking mixture.

The tub they’d used had said as part of its main advertisement ‘Temporary hair dye’ but Mark was almost certain they were lying, the colour was too glaringly strong and vibrant for him to believe such a statement. Marzia was surprisingly good at the whole ‘DIY hairdressing’ thing, and she’d done an amazing job at trying to make the absolute car crash of colour on top of his head look good, Mark had to commend her for that.

Still, looking on the bright side, Mark had been right. Jack did laugh, for about five minutes straight actually. It did make the change all the more worthwhile to see the happiness brightening up Jack’s entire being; even if he was indeed laughing at Mark’s ridiculously bubblegum pink hair, Mark found he didn’t care so long as the other boy was laughing as he so rarely did. It felt good to cheer the green haired boy up after how miserable he had looked after his session with the counsellor. But then Jack did something Mark didn’t expect.

The Irishman must’ve noticed Mark’s worried frown, the thought of going into school like this filling him with the familiar dread of the unfiltered judgement that was coming his way when he finally went back. Jack had paused in his laughter and moved over to the, now pink haired, boy to give him a light peck on the mouth.

“I’m just taking the piss. I think you look awesome, Mark. I’m serious.” He reassured him quietly, like it was a secret between only them and nobody else.

Mark smiled at that, raising an eyebrow playfully even as his cheeks flushed a pale pink. “Is that so?”

Jack ducked his head with a grin. “Of course, dumbass, you look amazing all the time.” Mark only blushed harder at the unexpected and blatant compliment, feeling Jack slip his small hand into his.

“Hey Jack?” Mark blurted out, biting his lip as he thought of the question he so badly wanted to ask for so long now but was far too afraid to even utter.

“Yeah?” Jack replied, a little confusion colouring his voice as he looked up at the other boy.

“Do you- uh want to be my boyfriend?” Mark forced out of his mouth, eyes half squeezed shut as he prayed desperately that Jack wouldn’t pull away from him in disgust at the question. They’d been avoiding it after all. What the fuck was he thinking?

All he got in answer was an unattractive snort from the Irishman. “Well no shit Sherlock.” Jack answered sarcastically, but there was a smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth. He gave Mark’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “We’re stuck with each other now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Damn that was a long one wasn't it? I'm actually pretty happy with how it turned out, plus I got my friend to read over it before I posted it so that helped a lot xD Still, that's pretty much it, only the epilogue to go I think :) 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!


	31. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 0

Mark P.O.V

This was a terrible idea. 

Mark knew that.

Jason’s trial was long over, the testimonies from Mark, the present police and finally Jack himself was more than enough to convince the jury of his guilt but of course, that didn’t matter. Because of Jack’s age, the level of abuse and the lack of a previous criminal record the greasy blonde haired git only got a year. A fucking year behind bars and a tarnished record, that’s it. That’s all the fucker got.

The thought alone made Mark want to smack that smug judge in the face with his own stupid hammer. 

It was like giving the grown man a stern telling off and a slap on the hand. It wouldn’t change anything and everyone in that fucking court room knew it.  Maybe Jack was right after all. Maybe they were just living on bought time. Jason really did give off that ‘serial killer’ vibe.

Of course he didn’t allow himself to blurt his worries out to Jack himself. Jack had his own problems to worry about. He was still stuck in therapy once a week and he was making slow progress through the painful process of healing. Ava was helping him with that, even though Jack openly proclaimed he hated her and her unconventional methods. Mark could tell Jack was almost thankful for the breakneck pace during his weekly sessions, in fact the green haired boy had told him so. By this point all he wanted was to get better and he wanted it as fast as possible. Ava could give him that at least.

Still, Jack was tired of sitting in Felix’s house with nothing to do except wait for everyone to come home from work or school. He was visibly restless, unmotivated and plain bored and Mark hated that he could do nothing about it. He knew if he missed much more school the headmaster would be having a stern word with his parents and that was something Mark didn’t even want to touch, so instead he did his best to entertain Jack when they were together; watching movies, watching gaming youtubers, Tv shows, playing video games, hell, they even broke out some of Felix’s ancient, dust covered board games they were _that_ fucking bored.

But it wasn’t enough.

Mark knew it wasn’t enough by the look on Jack’s face as he said goodbye in the mornings, he knew by the increasing number of beer bottles filling up the trash, he knew because Jack told him so, in the middle of the night, curled up on Mark’s bed when neither of them could sleep and he thought Mark would forget it the next day.

“I’m sad when I’m alone, Mark, and after a while I get bored of being sad. Tell you what, I’d better get a hobby, knitting or something, otherwise I think I’m gonna go fucking insane in this stupid house.” Jack had whispered, pausing for a second before laughing a little but there was no humour behind it, just a bitter hollowness that Mark couldn’t believe was coming out of his boyfriend’s mouth. “Oh wait, never mind, it’s too late for that I guess.”

Jack had fallen asleep not long after that but Mark had stayed awake that night, the words repeating themselves over and over again in his head like a broken record. Because Jack sounded so broken, so hopeless and it tore Mark apart to hear him talk like that.

Still, that didn’t mean he agreed with this.

“You can’t stop me from going.” Jack huffed, his bag slung over his shoulder and a look of determination etched on his features as he stared defiantly at Mark.

Mark sighed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Jesus Christ Jack, this is ridiculous. You know you’re not ready stop acting any different.”

They were standing in Felix’s kitchen, the blonde haired man and his girlfriend having left for work hours ago. Jack was angry, fire burning in his eyes that was all too familiar. Mark sighed to himself, they argued too much.

“What would you know about it? You can’t expect me to stay in this fucking house forever! I want to get a job, get myself a life of my own so I’m not just leaching off other people all the time. Why can’t you understand that?” Jack retorted, and Mark could see he meant it.

“Of course I understand! I just don’t think now is a good time.” Mark moved closer to his boyfriend, resting his hands gently on his shoulders and holding the other boy’s gaze firmly. “You’re just starting to get better. Do you really want to just throw all of that down the drain and end up at square one?”

The Irishman waited for a few seconds, thinking. To anyone else his glare could be considered hostile, but Mark knew that wasn’t the case. It didn’t take long before Jack’s shoulders slumped under Mark’s hands, his eyes dropping towards the ground in defeat. “Fine. God, you’re such a prick.” He muttered under his breath, shrugging off his bag and shoving it, with a little more force than was necessary, into Mark’s chest. “Have fun at school.”

The American sighed, feeling rather guilty as he watched his boyfriend stalk into the living room and throw himself on the couch, staring blankly at the dark Tv screen. Mark looked from the sullen figure to the door and then back again, weighing up his options before making his decision. He threw off his own bag into one of the kitchen chairs. School could wait.

Jack looked up at him, surprised when the door didn’t close, and found Mark standing over the couch, looking down on him with a small grin. He held out his hand. “Wanna play a game? I heard Felix bought a new one if you want, its horror.” Mark said, as much persuasion in his voice as he could muster.

The Irishman rolled his eyes with a lazy groan, taking Mark’s hand and allowing himself to be pulled up off the couch. Mark gave him a soft and quick kiss, his form of an apology, and when they pulled away Jack’s smile was a little brighter, sending butterflies amok in Mark’s stomach. He was forgiven.

All of a sudden the green haired man’s eyes lit up, Mark practically able to see the light bulb flashing above his head as he darted away. “Where the hell are you going?” Mark yelled after him, confusion etched into his face as he found himself alone.

A few seconds later, Jack was back, Felix’s video camera held carefully in his hand. “You know how I wanted a hobby?” Jack began, a hint of nerves entering his voice as he looked up at Mark hesitantly like he was worried Mark would judge him. The American nodded slowly, confusion still pulling his eyebrows together when Jack spoke again. “Well, I think I’ve got an idea about what I could do, wanna give it a try?”

Mark grinned and spoke without a second thought. “Sure. What were you thinking?”

Jack shrugged, a hesitant little smirk pulling at his lips before he held up the camera, giving it a little shake. “I was thinking about maybe recording our game and putting it on YouTube? Just for a laugh. It’d be something for me to do while you’re out but…I’d like you to help me get started?” He looked down at the floor. “Only if you want to.”

Mark laughed quietly, grabbing the camcorder out of Jack’s lose grip. “Well duh, of course I want to.” He held the recorder up to his eye, pretending to record his boyfriend right then and there. “It’s time to make you an internet superstar, Sean McLoughlin.” He joked lightly, stepping forward so he was practically shoving it in the other boy’s face

Jack snorted, pushing the camera away laughing as he moved to put the game into Felix’s beaten up PS2. “Get over here you idiot. How do I record the game on this thing anyway?”

***

“Jack?”

The green haired man snapped his laptop shut at the sound, a look of alarm on his face as his wide eyes found Mark standing at the door. His cheeks coloured a little, pink dusting his cheeks as he blinked up at his boyfriend. “Yeah?”

“Are you coming outta there?” Mark asked stepping into the little, almost cupboard-like room that Jack had been holed up in for the past few days. “Dinner’s ready.”

Mark turned to leave and Jack bit his lip, looking from Mark to his laptop and then back again for a second before apparently making a decision. “Wait a second, could you look at this for me? Just quickly before I post it.” He pleaded quietly and Mark looked around in surprise.

Jack’s YouTube career as Jacksepticeye was going unexpectedly well, for something that started out as a light-hearted joke he’d really thrown himself into it, even gathering a small following of nearly 100 thousand people in the 6  months he’d been uploading on the website. It was extraordinary.

It was like YouTube became Jack’s personal release, he poured himself into videos, uploading one a day consistently and learning as he went along. Mark noticed how after every therapy session Jack would immediately record a video, if for nothing more than to cheer himself up and give himself back his energy by cursing and laughing at stupid games he loved. It made Mark happy to see Jack so enthralled in something.

The Irishman still saved his evenings for Mark, often stockpiling videos so they could have weekends free for whatever plans Mark may have devised during the week. Still, in all the time he’d been working on his videos, he’d never once asked Mark to check one of them before. It was odd behaviour to say the least.

“What’s wrong with it?” Mark asked slowly, confused.

 Jack bit his lip, looking up at his boyfriend pleadingly. “I just want you to see it first, okay? Please?”

The American let out a sigh but walked into the little room anyway, shooting Jack a roll of his eyes before pulling the headphones over his head and pressing play on the video. He could see the Septiceye Sam logo of Jack’s channel and held back a grin. Jack told the public the reason he chose the name Sam was because it was unisex and perhaps that was one reason. But Mark knew it wasn’t the only one.

Jack’s intro played, as per usual, Mark hadn’t watched many of his boyfriends videos but he knew he would’ve watched this one regardless. It was Jack’s 100 thousand subscriber special, a simple vlog and Jack started it off with a solid 3 minutes of thanking every single person he could think of which made Mark smile uncontrollably. He glanced over at Jack for a second with a lopsided grin, but his smile quickly faded when he noticed the nervousness and tension in Jack’s entire being. Good God, what was wrong?

The video continued on as any normal thank you vlog of Jack’s would, and Mark was beginning to wonder what all the fuss was about until he caught his name being said. 

“ _I want to thank Mark, my own personal American idiot, who pushed me to do this. When I got here he was my first friend and he helped me through so much. I don’t think I’ll ever be done thanking him for everything he’s done for me. He’s absolutely amazing and I love him.”_ The Jack on the screen froze for a second, as though he wasn’t expecting that to come out of his mouth, wondering if he should continue. “ _Fuck it_.” Video Jack muttered looking up into the camera, his eyes shining with an emotion Mark couldn’t name as a smirk grew on his face. “ _Thank you everyone so much for 100 thousand subscribers, I never thought we’d reach it, but if you liked this video punch the like button….”_

And Jack’s outro rolled and Mark pulled off the headphones, turning to Jack who looked more worried than ever. He was biting his lip so hard Mark could see a glint of blood. “Should I keep it in?” Jack blurted out, his hand shaking as he moved it up to drag through his hair. “I- I didn’t mean to say it, it just slipped out and oh my god I don’t know what to do.”

Mark smiled at his boyfriend softly. Jack hadn’t mentioned to his subscriber base that he was dating a man, it had never really come up in the stupid gaming videos he did, but now that he was faced with coming out to the internet he looked absolutely terrified. Not as terrified as he was of Jason’s looming shadow, but close. 

Mark took the Irishman’s hands in his, making the other man look up at him, blue eyes full of fear of the unknown. Mark couldn’t say anything about coming out, it all just sport of happened that way. He hadn’t spoken to his parents in a long time and Carrie had already worked it out for herself, there was no explanation necessary. And he was so lucky for that, but now Jack was opening himself up for judgment in front of over one hundred thousand people, and that was frightening to say the least.

“Well, do you want them to know?” Mark asked gently.

Jack shrugged. “On one hand it’s none of their business who I date but then,” He paused for a second, before continuing. “Why should I have to keep quiet about my relationship just because you’re a guy? I’m not ashamed of you, why shouldn’t I tell people?” The Irishman let out a groan. “Oh god this is so hard.”

The American let out a quiet laugh. “Just do it then, I don’t mind and the worst you’ll get is some mindless hate, that’s it. Go for it.”

Jack smiled at him, a little tear in his eye that Mark quickly swiped away. “Can we do it together?”

Mark nodded smiling comfortingly.

5 seconds later and it was done, the video was out for all the world to see, and Mark for the life of him couldn’t help but feel abuzz with giddiness even though he wasn’t quite sure why. The pink haired man turned to Jack, an excited grin on his face. “Congratulations Mr Internet Superstar for hitting 100 thousand subscribers.” He gave the Irishman a mock bow making him laugh lightly.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah where’s my dinner, peasant.” Jack chuckled and Mark easily scooped him up, lifting the laughing man towards the little kitchen of their not very luxurious apartment; mostly paid for with Mark’s job as a waiter in a restaurant nearby and the odd unsteady payment from Jack’s YouTube videos. Mark’s pasta bolognaise filled the room with the smell of canned tomatoes and garlic but Jack didn’t seem to mind and as they sat down for their dinner the wind outside battering the window pane was drowned out by the sound of mindless chatter and cutlery scraping on plates.  

They knew they were never going to be the richest or the most successful couple in the world, hell they could barely afford the roof over their heads, but none of that mattered. Jack still attended therapy once a week with Ava even a year later, and Mark sometimes wondered to himself if Jack would ever get completely better, but that didn’t matter. They still argued with each other like little children, but they didn’t care. Jason’s sentence was almost over, he could come for them at any moment, but that wasn’t a problem.

It wasn’t the happy ending everyone in fairytales so craved where everything was tied up in a neat little bow; but it was enough for them.

It was enough.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! So that's the end, the story didn't really need an epilogue and I'm not sure it fits but there we have it! 
> 
> Congratulations if you made it to the end of this very long, very angst septiplier fic and if you managed it I really hope you enjoyed it. Thankyou so much to everyone who commented, kudos or bookmarked this story it means so damn much to me :)
> 
> If anything doesn't make sense feel free to ask me and yeah, there we go. I'm kinda sad it's over tbh :) 
> 
> Tumblr = @allfandoms3  
> Instagram = @allfandoms3
> 
> Until next time...BYE!

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! Here's my attempt at a Septiplier fic, I hope you enjoy :P


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